It hit me all at once and my entire body was tingling. In a snap I realized something about life, about me, about what it means to be alive, what it really means I mean, and it all made sense.
And it still makes sense three weeks later as I write this. It feels important too, so I’m going to lay it out for you right now. It’s something I’ve always known, we’ve all known, each and every one of us, it’s part of who we are, but I don’t remember ever feeling it in my heart like this. Is it one of those things that once you put it into words it unravels and starts to make no sense at all? We’re about to find out.
I am life, that’s what I am, it’s as simple as that.
I’m the force of life incarnate. But not just in human form, in my human form.
Without the force of life, my human form would be just a hunk of flesh and bones, a lifeless mass. Without the force of life I’m a fire that hasn’t been lit, meaning I’m nothing. Once the fire is lit it dances and mesmerizes, it grows. And then eventually it dies, just as everything dies, as the force of life leaves, and what once had a life of its own becomes one with Mother Earth once again.
I’ve gotten into the habit of waking up before everybody else on weekends. I sit in an orange chair in front of the big window facing our backyard and I drink my coffee and stare outside as the world comes to life. Our yard is unreal, I can’t believe it’s ours, it’s huge and forest-like with massive oak trees. Especially in the summer, it feels alive.
My brain and body slowly come to life as well as I sip my first cup in the quiet house. Sometimes I have more energy, sometimes less. I always love it, but it can feel very different from one day to the next. Sometimes I’m plugged in and inspired to make things happen, sometimes my mind is cloudy and just wants to take it all in, calmly, passively.
I have no set routine on these mornings by myself, but I usually read a bit, or listen to a little music, or do a 10-minute guided meditation. Sometimes I’ll do more than one of these things, or all of them, but there are also days I do none and just sit there, staring.
Am I doing nothing when I stare? Of course not. I’m always breathing. My mind is always churning thoughts and ideas, and my body is always feeling as emotions and moods pass through. There are also countless processes and happenings going on in my body as it does what it does to stay alive. Blood flows, organs function, signals travel to and fro. On most days this entire system, my body, works together in harmony such that I don’t even notice the clockwork of my complex machinery.
I sat there staring and that’s when it hit me. This is my life. My living body. My breath, my blood pumping. My fire.
And then I thought: what is it that gives my body the life force that it has? I don’t think I’ll ever know, for to understand that I’d need to understand the meaning of life, the reason for being, the answer to all the unanswerable questions of existence. But I do know this life force was passed on through the ages and came together as me when I was conceived by my parents.
Their alive bodies, that have always been and continue to be constantly changing and evolving, came together at that specific instant in time when they were both those specific versions of themselves, which were different versions than they were an instant before and an instant after, and they created me. And what am I but a combination of who they were at that very instant, a combination that’s alive, that has the life force flowing through it.
And now here I am in my orange chair looking out the window and I realize that I am still that same life force. My body too is forever changing and evolving as cells die and I age and my life experiences affect and transform me, but it’s still the same life force, the same flame that has yet to go out.
I am life, that’s what I am, it’s as simple as that.
I’m the force of life incarnate. But not just in human form, in my human form.
Everything always changes, doesn't it? Yes, in a way. Like I just said, the cells in my body are always dying and then born again. I’m no scientist, but what I’ve been told is that at a cellular level I’m a totally different person than I was even a few years ago, meaning most and perhaps even all of my cells have been replaced by new cells. All of the mass and matter that was me at that time is gone. I’m an entirely new physical being. But I’m still the same person, aren’t I? I’m older, but I’m still Chris, I’m just a different version of the same guy.
So what is it that connects this Chris to that Chris? Some people would say it’s the soul, that indescribable aspect of who I am that gives me a unique personality and presence, and I can understand that. I believe it too, at least somewhat. But I’ve also seen some things that challenge this idea. I’ve seen people in my life, people that I love, lose mental functions as they age. They become someone very different, either permanently or at intervals. They become someone who seemingly doesn't have the same soul that they once did. How is that possible if the soul remains? How are those versions of those people truly connected?
It’s the life force that makes the connection. That’s what hit me as I sat in my orange chair. It’s the life force that connects who I am through the ages. The flame that was lit when I was conceived has continued to burn forty seven years later.
The life force is magic. We often don’t dwell on it or even think about it because we are surrounded by life, by friends, by energy. Life goes fast and is filled with responsibility and we are consumed by it.
But then every once in a while we confront death in a way that moves us deeply. We see the body of someone we knew, their dead body. We touch their cold skin and stare at their still face. But it’s not just still, it’s lifeless. We can see it right away. There’s no life there, that’s the only thing missing. Their body is the same, their size, their shape, their hands, their brow. But it’s not the same at all. Without life they’re gone from this world, they’re completely gone, even though their body remains. Yes, they live on in our memories, they always will, but that’s something different altogether.
I am life, that’s what I am, it’s as simple as that.
I’m the force of life incarnate. But not just in human form, in my human form.
There are so many things that make me unique. My specific nature of course, meaning my DNA, that exact combination of my parents that created my being. And my nurture too, meaning how I was raised, and all of the experiences I’ve had in life as well as what I paid attention to as they unfolded. The people I met along the way have hugely influenced who I am, especially the ones I spent a lot of time with. And there are people that inspired me from afar, or who touched my life ever so briefly but made a lasting impact. Some people in my life fit me like a well worn glove, they understood my contours and rolled so exquisitely with my physical and mental movements. I love those human connections the most, as they not only shaped me, but they also gave me the confidence to love myself for exactly who I am, my ever changing self.
All human beings are the force of life incarnate. But not just in human form, in their human form.
The same goes for all beings, for everything that’s alive. They are all the force of life incarnate. Not just in whatever form they inhabit, whether it’s a horse or a tree or a frog, but in their own specific and unique construction of that form.
I am, we are, the force of life incarnate, all of us. We are all flames burning bright in this infinitely vast universe.
We all have different forms, we have different souls, but we all have the life force running through us.
And it’s the same life force that flows through all of us. This same life force connects us all, to different versions of ourselves and also to one another.
Let us love this flame, this force of life, for we never know when it will go out for ourselves or for any one of us.