Saturday, March 26, 2016

Meaningless Intersections

"You're fifty years old. You've seen fifty Christmases, fifty birthdays, fifty years come and go. You've been in love many times, worked countless hours in many jobs, read millions of words, probably written millions as well. You've walked thousands of miles and your life is built out of these teeny, tiny building blocks, the tiniest of LEGO building the Taj Mahal. A tremendous accumulation of experience and knowledge. By now, your heart has beat over two billion times. One day, with another twenty years and 850 million heartbeats under your belt, you will be walking down the street. You'll see an even older man, stooped with age, with all the same breadth and depth of experience and wisdom as you, immeasurable, and you'll exchange a polite glance, perhaps a polite nod. You've never seen each other before. This is your first meeting, a moment your entire life has been leading up to. You will never see each other again. A heartbeat. Maybe three. That's all you get. Out of three billion heartbeats in your life, you each get three heartbeats to exist for each other. That's how we live our lives, every day; thousands of tiny, meaningless intersections that mean nothing, except to help us move forward."

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