Of all the wonders that this world possesses, I would posit that the greatest is the mere fact of its existence. We take so for granted that this universe Is, Was, and shall always Be. We comprehend an unchanging system, static and dormant now as it has always been. Yet, we know this to be false; we know that the stars are born and die, that the galaxies spin with reckless abandon into the infinite void, and that even this little world will not be tomorrow as it was today. That this fallacy of permanence should so permeate our very existence I find so ironic when so many of us fail to live in the moment. We ignore the fundamental sensations of living. We ignore the warmth of the sun on our skin and the sound of the wind. We ignore the beauty of trees and even the coarseness of the sidewalk. We ignore the dazzling sparkle of the light against windows, and the determination of a procession of ants. All these little aromas and sights and textures… All of these perceptions lost to a passive ignorance.
We’ve dreamt up fairy tales to explain away this world, to try and imbue it with some form of false holiness and mystique, which all but undermine the sheer awe of reality. How does this natural world, with all its grace and splendor, so fail to capture our attentions that we must attribute it to some fantasy in order to give it meaning? What sense does “meaning” even have in the context of this chaos? We are born of beings who acted on primal urges with their own purposes, whose instincts were passed on by predecessors. These entities, these things of autonomy, these machines of cells and molecules, all of which were forged in the hearts of stars, acted with a will entirely their own. We are the children of star dust, and all that we see is the result of temporary order in an otherwise increasingly disorderly system. That you can simply Be, with a sentient consciousness, should be miracle enough without conjuring the puerile idea of a god to dismiss that very wonder and curiosity which makes us so alive.
We gave up our imaginary friends when we grew mature and wise enough to know them to be but play things of our own creation, a hollow friend to fill the void of lonely childhood days, a feeble ally against the threat of dawning existentialism. Are we so lonely in our lives and afraid of the nothingness of death that we must cling to this idea of a paternal figure as an infant would cling to its mother? That we should dismiss the pursuit of knowledge and label it as blasphemy when we could apply ourselves to making this world and this life a Heaven in of itself is perhaps our greatest crime. We cast ourselves as the villains from Eden, rather than build this world into that vision for ourselves. We have confused guilt and idleness, and made a scapegoat for our own indifference to let the world burn.
Imagine if there were no God. Imagine if there were no countries. Imagine no government nor governed- only the people, living in peace, with a fundamental appreciation for the gorgeousness of Life.
My name is Jeffrey Hepburn, and I'm a young writer, graphic design artist, and aspiring filmmaker.