Life. I love being alive. Of all the trillions of sperm and billions of eggs available during the time of any conception, the eventual interdependent amalgamation is statistically infinitesimally improbable. Following fertilization we still struggle making it unscathed towards the light of existence.
But here we are.
We were the sperm with the strongest tails, the highest-octane mitochochondria; the egg whose fallopian flight best descended to the integral location for a genetic chest bump.
Regardless of your religious options, adoption, upbringing in thinking or plowing fields with oxen I rate this the greatest knowledge that led me to the edge of existential appreciation.
The opportunity to be conscious, to feel with our fingertips the grits of sand crashing and passing the crests of our fingerprints, to have a skin color and bodily imperfections; the opportunity of opinion to have a favorite anything, to type a poem in a periodic sonic environment of on-beat clocks ticking off-beat with one another. It is simply miraculous that we get to breathe. There is probably a better chance of winning the lottery every day of your life than being alive in the first place.
I don’t know if it’s possible to NOT exist… But isn’t it cool that we …do?
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