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by Mez
Rated: E · Essay · Travel · #2283562
Where do you go to find the meaning of life?
Cogito, ergo sum

By Mezandria

The melancholy of winter is already sinking its teeth into me as I twist the cold brass handle and step out the back door. Leaves gently crunch under my bare feet and the limp grass is wet with morning dew. In contrast to my mood, the trees are casting off their jeweled cloaks, displaying their brilliant colors in one last burst before the long dormancy of winter. A hesitancy, the hush hush of wind, then a gentle caress as it releases the breath it’s been holding. As the earth around me prepares to slumber, I prepare for a new journey. One that I may never return from.

I have packed a bag for my travels. In it, I carry strength, determination, and a resolve to go where no-one else has gone before. No, I do not need my shoes, for my soul is already unbound and slipping into the abyss. One might suppose that the lofty heavens would be my end goal, to float carefree in the dark outer reaches of space where I might witness the birth and death of stars, but no. Today, I will become chaos.

I spiral down through myself in order to perceive that which has only been seen through electron microscopes and fanciful daydreams of particle physicists. First, at the cellular level where I witness biological robots marching along their protein train tracks. Next, down to the molecular level where I can observe the Brownian motion of water molecules, that substance which makes up nearly 60% of my mass. Here, the randomness becomes so pronounced that it is hard to see how this vital force contributes to the existence of my consciousness. Imagine looking close-up at a screen full of static, where no pattern seems obvious until one zooms out to such an extent that an image takes form. It might at first seem like magic, but it is more like the bars of the cage that are not noticed because they have been there for an entire lifetime. Today, I break free from those confines and slip down into the very atoms of my being.

Here, there seems to be no rhyme or reason. Hydrogen atoms whimsically attach and detach themselves all around me and still I am unsatisfied with my search for the meaning of life. Where does it end? Do I find myself in a one-dimensional configuration where my vibrations determine my physical properties? At this quantum level of reality, I pop into and out of existence, probability determining my location and velocity. This embodiment of chaos leads me to realize that the idea of control is simply an illusion. I think, therefore I am, and that is enough for me.

This story has been created in response to the following writing prompt: Write a poem or story about an explorer being the “first” (by some measure) to arrive somewhere… and what is found already waiting there.

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