Clocking Out

I just read a heartbreaking story about Jerika Bolen, a 14-year-old girl who has made a very difficult decision for herself and her family. She’s decided to self-euthanize due to Type 2 Spinal Muscular Atrophy, which is a very rare and devastating physical condition that will inevitably cut short her time here on this earth. I found this news terribly sad, and I questioned the morality of it. I began to wonder whether we truly have the right to our time in this universe. And rather than figure out a definitive answer to that, I naturally dwelled on the topic for far too long.

Because the most beautiful thing that we as human beings will ever experience is not love at first sight, or the thrill of a satisfying career, or a supportive family, or our dope Snapchat story from Lollapalooza. It is time, the only resource that we share and control, the canvas onto which we paint our lives. We spend it on experiences, take it from the departed and give it to the newcomers, and share it with those we care about.

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Pray For Us

Have you ever had an existential crisis? Not necessarily a serious, identity threatening one, but the kind where you stare at the mirror for a few seconds and ask yourself philosophical questions. I think I had mine at some point in elementary school, and I figure it’s more or less the same for everybody. “What happens after we die?” and “Why are we here?” and “Who am I?” are all quite a lot to handle at any age.

Many turn to religion to answer these questions. In fact, pretty much every religion began this way. One person hypothesized reasons for our existence and a few others nodded their heads while murmuring. A group then formed out of this existential guessing game, and inevitably, these answers morphed as they trickle down generation after generation, like a timeless game of telephone. What’s sad is that The Answers, originally intended to create worldwide harmony, have instead become a medium of conflict.

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