Number 929

Number 929

This is part of a series of short fiction I’m writing based on the ‘meaning of life’. I draw inspiration from a variety of places, and scribble down ideas focused towards one interpretation. When there’s enough there, I work with an AI to craft a few paragraphs in the style of one of the great writers ~ the fun is guessing who is whom.

Perhaps we've misunderstood life.

Maybe it's not about toiling or worrying, sifting through the past, or nervously anticipating the future.

Life might be far simpler, purer, like clear water running over smooth stones, like the sun warming the earth without asking for anything in return.

It’s living, breathing, being in the quiet, uncomplicated way of the world, and nothing more.

Think of life not as a series of tasks and endless pursuits, not as a canvas darkened with the heavy paint of what’s wrong or missing.

Perhaps it’s a brief, bright vacation for something greater than us, a super-intelligence taking a break. Yet here we are, wasting the days with worry, with striving, missing the trees for the forest, the sky for the clouds, forgetting the simple, unadorned beauty of what is right and good.

Imagine then, living just for the sake of it. Not with grand purpose or a heavy heart, but with lightness, with joy, feeling the grass underfoot, the wind in the trees, the quiet hum of the earth turning.

We're here for a short time, a blink in the vast expanse of the universe. So, maybe the best we can do, the best we should do, is live, and in living, find the deep, abiding joy of life itself.

For in living without burdens, we might just find what we've been looking for all along.