What is scarce is valuable, and what is superabundant has little value. How then, such great weight is given to the value of life? Why is life of any value on a planet whose every metre is filled with life? Value is measured through the lens of emotions or ‘meaning’ as it is the new term for all sensations. Scarcity gives ‘meaning’ to things, and ‘meaning’ can be valuable. Why then, is life ever meaningful? Sensation is what is called ‘meaning,’ and in such manner life is ‘meaning.’
Beauty is to be appreciated in life, and thus I can appreciate the ‘experience of life,’ however, nothing is ever new, therefore, how can anything be beautiful? To find the beauty in the superabundance of all things non-original is the hard task of the beauty-seeker. Yes, life, and everything in it, is no different than a cliché; human experience is an old ever-occurring story – what one lives is never fresh. Once I discussed this notion with a man who said in response, ‘If you ever marry a woman, would that not be a new experience for you?’ And at that moment, egotism appeared very sickening: that everything is viewed from the experience of the self. Damn the self to hell! Without egotism, can any value be assigned to life? The value is only granted by the egotist man.
Is empathy another outcome of egotism? If one is indifferent to one’s own experience, how can he be moved by another’s? Empathy is often disgusting, for it is often pity towards others; but the modern man worships all forms of pity, and thus marks those without it as ‘inhuman,’ or even ‘immoral.’ Such form of anti-virtue has become a value of mankind; here again comes the notion of value, disguised as ‘care for others,’ – an effective way to ignite sensations of self-worthiness! Such anti-virtues come only from the fear of the inner-voice!
And we mourn the dead, and celebrate the newborn only to mourn over their dead bodies one day. (Is mourning another form of pity? perhaps self-pity?) Even the living rarely matter...
I wrote the mind-piece thus far, and walked in the pursuit of cheese not far. I saw an old friend, sitting, observing the human life. She did not recognise me at first, but to the sound of my whistle she jumped, and greeted me warmly, surely happy she was; I was delighted even more. And with the smiley face of that dog, the world freshened once more.