I Die Every Day, and It’s Beautiful
On living an authentic existence
No, I don’t have a terminal illness. I’m not dying because of a sickness that’s eating me away. When I said “I die every day,” I refer to the natural process by which living beings approach death. Even if we’re healthy, a part of us dies each day.
Once we’re born, death is attached to our existence. And as we get older, the chances of dying become even more apparent.
But asides from bodily death, I’m also dying from who I was. While that’s scary, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. If I become a better, kinder person each day, the daily painful deaths are worth it.
When I browse through my old journals, I’m surprised by how different I was. When I read them, I wonder, who is this person? Was this really me? Why don’t I recognize him?
Maybe it’s because a new man is reborn in me every time I choose to live authentically. When I let go of the things that bound me and those that are no longer good, I allow myself to become all I can be.
Is There Any Sense to Life At All?
In his book, Being and Time, Martin Heidegger proposed a simple idea.
Being is time and time is finite. For human beings, time comes to an end in death. Therefore, if we…
