In perfect Rachael World (you know, the same place where my best friend Kat will be Minister In Charge of Hot Forking People Wot Deserve It) everyone will be required to take a basic geology class. And not be allowed to escape until they have at least a rudimentary grasp of the concept of Deep Time. (That thing that involved metaphors about if the life of the Earth was a football field, humanity’s entire existence would be the last blade of grass, etc.) Once you’ve had your mind completely blown by the immensity and longevity of the universe, you end up with two contradictory but true conclusions:
- The world is immense and old, and we are tiny and brief. What happens today is less than the blink of an eye in the grand scale of mountains and planets and stars. Whatever happened? It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. The stars are still there, the Earth still turns. In ten billion years it’ll all be dust anyway. Let it go.
- The world is immense and old, and we are tiny and brief. And yet somehow in this moment that is less than the blink of an eye to the universe, you have sat next to someone, you have fallen in love, you have hated, you have laughed, you have cried. You stand at the confluence of infinite rivers carrying sand without number, and yet somehow you have plucked one grain from the flow and licked it from your finger. This will never be repeated. This single, beautiful heartbeat is all you get.
Make it count.