A Human Life

A human life is an artefact that we build throughout the time that we are alive. Every choice–every action–leaves something behind. These are small drops in a vast ocean, but nonetheless they cause ripples which affect the world in more and more complex ways as time goes on.

Over time, these ripples shape the world and can make it align more with our own natures. We craft from the source material of experience, a creation that infuses the world with spirit and beauty.

We don’t know the limit to how beautiful it could be.

This process is similar to writing a song. All of the possible frequencies and combinations exist, but our job is to separate and structure them into a form that is to our liking. There is also a definite limit to the length of this work. This means that every life, just like every song, must end, but that has to be the case or there wouldn’t be any finished songs. Human beings aren’t completed until they are dead. Until then, they are only works in progress.

A song might not want to end, but it’s composer and audience surely want it to. And you are not the song, you are the composer and audience. The song is simply happening as a result of the interaction of the two. Yet we still forget our roles as composer and audience and think we are only the song. If you identify as the song, you will be scared of what happens when it’s over. If you are the composer, you will simply go on to writing the next song. If you are the audience, you will want to hear something new.

If your life is a song that you are writing, what do you want it sound like when it’s finished? People will be playing it for years to come, and it will slowly embed intself into the fabric of reality and influence all things that come after it.

You can spend all of the time you want raging against the fact that the song is going to be written, will be horrible at times, may be mostly horrible, and is going to end. That’s fine, but too much of that will not help you to make a beautiful song. You could even end your song now if you wanted to. You would move on to writing the next song, but if you quit this one too early you won’t have learned the skills you’ll need to get better.

You may not like the song that you’ve written so far. You might realize you had always thought of it sounding entirely differently. Thankfully, you can change the song as time goes on, but it does take time otherwise the experience would be too jarring. You can slowly shift the tempo or key until everything is where you want it to be. If you do that well, even the uglier parts of the song will be loved by those who listen, and will teach them how to solve similar problems with their compositions.

Helping other people to write more beautiful songs is only good so long as it doesn’t make yours unbearable to write and listen to. There seems to be some sort of musical law which causes songs written entirely for other people to be unappealing. At least to the discerning audience, and you want your song to be experienced as positively by everyone at all levels of musical interest.

Wherever you are in writing your song, know that it can be beautiful, and even more beautiful, that it must end, and that it isn’t you. It’s an artefact. And though it ends, it lasts, and there is a Song that goes on.

We don’t know the limit to how beautiful it could be.