A few days ago, my distant cousin called and asked me to like and leave a comment on her YouTube video. Of course, we're family and so I did.
She's a nurse. Headstrong. Resilient. And hecking intimidating, ha. She's busy treating Covid patients yet she puts out incredible amounts of time to craft these videos.
Her YouTube videos felt like a diary into her life. She told me on the phone, "Ngoc, I enjoy making these videos because I want people to watch them and relax with me. And learn something that could to help them decorate their lives."
Her words felt reminiscent of the "podcasts" I had made when this blog was much younger. Back when I preached on YouTube. Back when I liked posting "podcasts". Back when I thought I was making any sort of difference, when I wanted proof that I had important things to say.
I wanted to feel like I existed. I wanted proof of it. Just as I want proof now, as I craft these words together.
I'm reading a book: Sapiens, A Brief History of Humankind. Thousands of years we've existed as homo sapiens. There was a time when there were other human species that existed on earth simultaneously but spread out among different parts of the world: homo sapiens, homo erectus, neanderthals, denisovans, and more. Whenever the homo sapiens species went up and spread out, finding themselves in the same areas as the other human species, the other human species were quickly, if not immediately, wiped out. There are several theories to this (a battle for resources, genocide, ect) but the fact is; whenever homo sapiens shared the same territory as another human species, the other human species disappeared.
We have records of the other human species' existences, but as for details into their lives, its gone.
Homo erectus. Neanderthals. Denisovans. Gone.
They were and they weren't.
Reading that hurt my heart. Quick. It helped me realize that I am but one day, I won't be.
Existence is such a fragile thing. Humans, we strive for meaning, for security, for love, for justice.
We want so many things, but what will remain, when individually, we disappear? In worst cases, we collectively disappear? What proof is there that we existed?
On a large scale, homo sapiens would leave behind our cars, cement buildings, phones, books.
Individually, we leave behind memories of ourselves in others. Research papers, love letters we once wrote. Pollution. O_o
What proof do we want to exist? When we're gone.
What proof do I want to exist, when I'm gone? Do I even want proof that I existed? And if I want to leave behind this proof, why? Why do I feel so important?
Why do I want to feel important?
What's going to happen to me if I don't feel important? If I feel meaningless?
If all that I left behind were some memories of myself in someone else's eyes. And those memories would die with them, when they die?
This is ego, isn't it? Hah.
Gosh.
I promise I'm okay. Just, this book, Sapiens, is really good. I highly recommend it.
Beyond this, maybe it's for the best that I live day-to-day. Cherish life as it is, day-to-day.
Perhaps, it's not important that I write, or that I create, as a way to leave behind various proof that I existed.
It's most important that I did exist. That I was a happy creature when I lived. Most of the time anyways haha. And that I had things I looked forward to, when I lived. That I loved my life when I lived it.
All my hopes for tomorrow are hopes. Hope is imagination. And so are joint-stock companies, apparently, hehe.
I love you, you stranger reading my blog.
You, reading my blog in this exact moment. You existed.
I love that. We're all about existence.
But so is living out our existence.
Sending good vibes, hugs, and a copy of Sapiens,
the-girl-who-once-existed-and-did-exist-when-she-wrote-this-blogpost-hi-aliens
