Death, Promises and Skepticism

Just came back from my soccer game. Not surprisingly, my muscle cramped up. Training's been intensive these days - 1500m on Thurs, 400m training on Fri, and there's training for 400m tomorrow. I'm thinking of pulling out really. There's still the debate to prepare for...

Perhaps the cynic in me is emerging again. Last night's talk with Melody was much welcomed; I sorted out several issues I needed to let go off. But really, why do we make promises? One shortcoming of the words we speak is the weight the hold. And what's more, we make promises like we will live forever. When do we know when our time is up? Fate, the Will of God, whatever other name it goes by that you believe in - is beyond our comprehension and predictability. Who knows for sure that the moment you leave your home, you'll return home safely?

There is this inability for us to govern our own lives, and ironic as it is in our struggle to amass power, we are still subjected to different external forces beyond our control. We make futile attempts to subdue Nature, and her ways, but to what extent can we play God? When will we realise that what we have come to can be taken away so easily? Empires crumbled over history, that we all know. Are we only going to realise that our attempts to exert autonomy over life and its forces is pathetic and futile when the helm of our ships is wrecked and beyond repair? We have become more arrogant and confident than the sailors of old who prayed for safe voyages and journies from each port departure. They believed in Nature and a larger force; we attempt to pitifully subdue it, but knowing too well we cannot.

And ever so often, we ask why - why we fail.

In Greek Mythology, the Moirae sit silently spinning the threads of life, and not even the Gods had power over them. And when the thread runs thin or Clotho and Lachesis decide the work is done, incomplete as it may possibly be, Atropos will cut the threads. Who decides who lives and who dies? Who subjects us to life or death? Who guaranteed that tomorrow would be a better day? Who guaranteed we would even live to see the dawn of another day? Who are we to make that promise?

We live life like immortals; we amass power, wealth, but what do we have in the end, for we know that there will be an end...

Perhaps to know life, we must first seek death; it is in the pursuit of death that we understand the purpose of life.