That is the cause that drives all of us; we meat-puppets, bio-piles, self-motivated obsessed carbon life forms that we are. The reason we do everything that we do is because we die. The meaning of life is that it ends.
The scrawled hearts on the park bench, the scratched names under your desk are cries from the past; reaching yearning, calling from that abyss where all things must go. We build cities and businesses, and lives because they are graffiti to the gods, and we want them to be hard to scrub off the walls.
Think about laborers under the beating sun dragging blocks for the great pyramids, think about the lives that were spent to turn great blocks of stone into a massive tomb for the ruler of a sand patch at the end of a muddy river. Thousands and thousands of hours of back breaking work, of lives spent like devalued currency, and for what? So one man could have a glorious tomb and take his riches into the after-life? Yet ten thousand, thousand men and women and children were buried in shallow graves in the sand. No embalming for them, no hope for an afterlife for them.
You think we are any different today? We work and sweat and labor to build high-rises that will be used, and then neglected, and then dilapidated, and then razed. Gone. Cities rise, cities fall, ruins fill the landscape and the flesh-toned tide of humanity rises and falls, ebbs and recoils, fades and though it is always dying, always being born, it is a continuous thread that stretches back into history, one meager life at a time.
Do you really think you are going to make your mark on the world?
Time is death, death is time. Eventually I will be gone, you will be gone, and perhaps if we are fortunate, we may be remembered by our descendants, or if we have done something famous or infamous we may be remembered long into the future, though that future does not really matter much to those still trapped like a fly in amber locked in the past.
I look at those scratchings on a park bench, and wonder at our own mortality, the great mystery that is death. What deep scratches are you trying to leave behind?
Time Is Money, Time Is Life, Therefore Money = Life
Spend your money wisely.
How much is your time worth?
Each one of us sells ourselves every working day of our lives, you sell little bits of your life to your employer every day you go to work. How much is your life worth?
The most basic economy is a barter economy, this is where I can take the milk my cow produces, (costing me lots of time and energy to prepare, care for and manage) and then barter it to you for some of the corn you grew last season, (which also cost you in time and effort) I then have what I wanted, and you have what you wanted. I don’t need to grow corn since I can turn my labor into milk from my cow, and then turn that milk into corn by trading to you. This system works only when you have something I need and I have something that you need, but what happens when you don’t need or want the milk? Perhaps you want a new rake instead?
So I take my milk down the street to the blacksmith instead and trade him the milk for the rake, and then the rake for the corn I need….. you see the problem of-course. This system has major limitations because I can never be sure I can turn my product or service into the things I need efficiently, so the market comes up with one step in-between. That step is money.
Money is simply abstract time/labor, you might not realize it, but we are still very much using the same kind of transactions as a barter economy, but what we are doing is using a sort of universal labor credit (the currency we use to make transactions) to facilitate those trades.
I still work hard to care for my dairy farm, I still expend time, energy and labor, and in return my cow gives milk which is a commodity that I can use to get other things or services with. I sell the milk to the market (anyone who wants it) and get money in return. This money is an abstract representation of my labor. It is a portion of my life and energy made into something I can hold in my hand. Money is abstract time, money is your life.
Every dollar you earn is a little bit of your life that you have sold to someone else, it is your life energy made into small paper bits that you trade with other people to get what you want, and for them to get what they want. The more money you have, the more life you have. Think about this:
If I want to build a house, I can do it 2 ways: I can either expend a great deal of time and effort and do it all myself, (very difficult in modern times because of various restrictioans, but lets imagine it on a more primitive scale) or I can have that same house built with the money I have accumulated over time, (my savings) since that money is my time turned into a tradable item, I am really just using my own time to build that house. I choose to hire a crew of workers to build it, but since they are selling me their time for bits of my own time that I have saved up, it serves the same purpose. My house gets built by the expenditure of my own life and energy.
Money is life. Perhaps not your own, since you can inherit money, or perhaps come into a windfall of wealth, but fundamentally the money in your bank account is time, and the debt you have, is a debt of time.
Spend your time wisely.
My job requires me to make house-calls.
During my work day, I meet people. Old, young, and everywhere in-between, I know all kinds. Most people fit firmly into the center of the bell-curve of society, but there are those that stand at the outer edges of ‘normal’. These people can range from the mildly out of place, to my favorite: the ‘Eccentric Idea People’. These are the wild-eyed ones that tell you that they know that there is an alien-brain-reading-cosmic-ray trained on their houses. They believe that they have a deep insight into things that no one else can fathom. I like these people very much.
I take care to listen to their ideas, and even try and ask deeper, more pointed questions, to get at the root of the idea. I don’t want them to think I doubt the sincerity of their thoughts; and truthfully; I don’t. I know that they really believe what they tell me, and I am fascinated in their stories. If for no other reason, than to comprehend how the brain works at the edges of reality.
Today (2010) I met such a person; for the sake of the story, we will call her ‘Barbara’.
I arrived at her apartment to install an Internet connection, and after asking where she wanted her connection, I began my work. Generally; I make light conversation with the customers, And I began by telling her she had a nice view, and asking her if she liked the sun streaming through the windows in the morning.
She said she did, and then abruptly turned the conversation: “I am an author”
“What kind of books do you write?”
“Advanced Quantum Physics Books” she said.
Now this was a first, I have met some authors in my life, but never one that wrote Physics books. I am very interested in Physics, and not doubting the truth of her statement, asked:
“Do you think that the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) will find the Higgs Boson?”
She hesitated, and then said:
“I study Quantum Brains”
I noted that she skipped the question, but chalked that up to a lack of knowledge in particle physics, perhaps not uncommon to be so specialized in a single field of Physics as to lack knowledge of the LHC. I assumed that by ‘Quantum Brains’ she meant the theorized Quantum nature of Consciousness, and the idea that the brain does not work in ‘Newtonian Physics’ but requires the Uncertainty inherent in Quantum Mechanics to function.
“So you write about how the brain works, on a sub-atomic level?” This sounded interesting!
“No, I know how the brain moves up into the Quantum, and this is called seeing God. There is a helmet on the brain, and it blocks the Quantum, but when the brain moves up,” -here she made a fist, to stand for the brain, and cupped it with the other hand, to symbolize the skull, and moved the brain-fist up to show it nearly touching the top of the skull. “The quantum can get in, and it is seeing God. I have it copyrighted.”
WOW! I walked right into that one!
She continued to tell me how she has done work for the government, and they owe her billions, and that she is the only one who knows these things. She told me how she has insights into the inner workings of the mind, and how she writes papers all the time for the local university. (I checked, and can’t find her name anywhere.)
Once I finally got out of there, and had the chance to really think about what happened, I came to the conclusion that we need people like this in society. For if it were not for the audacity of a patent clerk named Einstein, we might perhaps still be fighting to understand the universe with Newtonian Physics. If not for an eccentric Telegraph operator ‘Thomas Edison’, you might be reading by candlelight.
We need the people that live at the edges of reality, and insist that they have an insight into the murky waters of our world, or perhaps out brains.
99% of the time they are just what they appear; but once in a while someone steps out of the darkness, and gives us all a bit of light.