End
Repost from December 2nd, 1995
When I was in music school, I used to have many concerts; some were recitals, some were chamber music concerts, and the others were orchestra concerts. I would put lots of energy and time into preparing for each concert. I would practice a lot for the recitals and spend a lot of time rehearsing with other people for the chamber music and orchestra concerts. I wanted the concerts to be as successful as I could make them. Then the concert came, and it was the end of several weeks’ work. It usually took only half an hour to two; then, it was over. All the work and the concert were over. All the music was over, the people were gone, and the concert hall was empty and quiet. That was the saddest moment for me—everything ended.
Of course, I would start to work for the next concert. But what about the last concert, the last concert of my life, or the last concert of human being?
We always live and struggle for some end. If the end is achieved, we go on to the next one. In the universe we live in, ends seem existing everywhere. Whenever a new thing appears, a new era begins, a new life starts, or just simply a new day begins, it also begins its journey to its end. All the developments, changes, and declinations are only a flash; after all, they all have disappeared. To humans, the end of everything is death, because when one dies, s/he can no longer feel anything. No money, no reputation, no love, no hatred, no ideal—nothing is meaningful to a dead body. Like a stone, a dead person will not be pleased by all the treasure in the world, not be moved by the deepest love of the dearest person, not be angered by the most brutal humiliation, and not be threatened by even the extinction of the whole human race. Thus, ancient Chinese people said, “One ends, hundreds [of things] end.”
Helplessly, in front of death, humans created gods. They hope that although the body dies, the soul can continue to exist forever with gods. It is hard to argue whether or not there is life after death, because the real answer lies after death, but it is easier to understand the eternal burden eternality can place on a tired soul.
In the essay “But a Watch in the Night,” James C. Rettie compared the normal life-span of individual man (about seventy years) as three seconds in the full period of earth history (some 757 million years) seen as one year. Now think that in eternality, 757 million years is not even long enough to be a beginning. In America, a couple can say proudly, “We have been in love and living together for fifty years.” But can the greatest love in the world last for 50 billion years? Those who change partners often would find that they have had billions of romances in heaven by the end of 50 billionth year. Don’t forget 50 billion years is only an arbitrarily small number in eternality! I only mentioned the most beautiful thing, love; I do not know how the suicidal people will feel when they suddenly find that the way in front of them is endless. In such a truly endless period, even the most painful memory would become thin gradually and disappear at last, because time is the best doctor of soul; fifty billion years after the last concert, no one would still remember it.
Assuming our seemingly unlimited capacity for learning, maybe immeasurable knowledge can keep us from being bored in eternality. Some people learn slowly, some people learn faster, but there always is knowledge. After 50 billion years, we will know so much that now we can not even imagine how much we will know. If, unfortunately, our capacity for learning is limited (or even that knowledge itself is not infinite), we can keep forgetting the old stuff and re-learn it again later. In eternality, theoretically any wish will be fulfilled. Even if one moved only one meter every 50 billion years, he could still walk around the earth (if earth still exists). What an endless life it would be!
These assumptions make eternal life after death seem ridiculous. If there is beginning, there has to be an end; when a soul starts with the birth of a baby, it must also end someday. Some people say that although each individual can die, the species of human beings still continues. However, although human beings are always advancing and can cope with greater and greater disasters, nobody can prove that humans will never become extinct.
My emotions toward the concept end was complex. I did not want to die, because I did not want to give up this wonderful world; I did not want to leave burdens and grief to those who loved me and had expectations of me. But I also hoped that someday I could put a period to my life, so I could get a rest. I hoped the concert would never be over, because I knew I would miss it. I also hoped that I could finish the concert successfully, because that was what I had been working for. On the one hand, an “end” gave me a goal for the future, a meaning for life; on the other hand, having an end also let me pursue something that I would lose anyway. I was unable to get rid of the confusion end gave me, and I could not see my destiny, or end, and decide what is the meaning of my life, what I was to pursue.
At last, my thought settled on the idea that what was most important was not the end itself, but the procedure toward the end. An end can acquire real meaning only if it itself is on the way to the next end, so it will not disappear in history, but become a step preceding to the next step. I am still looking for my end, the meaning of life, but “finding the end” itself seems have become my end, or goal. If I can find it, then I will know what is the end I should pursue for my life. If I cannot find it, I will always have a goal to pursue—finding it. Maybe I will never find it, but I will always seek for it.
