Where does anything begin? Regardless of its specific form or context, our human experience seems to center around a notional perception of continuity. Each day we awaken to a belief that we existed yesterday, and each and every moment before the present. It’s easy for this to seem like a needless distinction. Obviously, we can make any number of delineations on events or distinctions: when we are conceived, or our heart first beats, or we are born, or our first memory. Any one of these may constitute one's opinion on the beginning of a human life, but each and every one requires a prior existence that makes the decision that this distinction designates the "beginning" seem rather insouciant. The meaning of a beginning for humanity is equally perplexing if not equally peripheral. Our love of continuity prefers to accept the prevailing theory of evolution, but this only serves to raise the "species problem." Nature does not construct boundaries with bright lines;...
Life, in particular the value of life, cannot be pinned down or defined—at least not with any sense of permanence. Everything we do and everything we experience will change us in some way, however subtle. Despite the futility of searching for objective truths or defining universal semantics through which such truths might be articulated, writing remains an opportunity to create change. Over time, I will attempt to convince myself that this change is the whole point of life—if not our purpose, then our prerogative. And it is incredibly easy to write, to influence, and to effect change in both ourselves and others. However, this does not mean that it is easy or even possible to control that change. Awareness of the futility in controlling the effects of our actions, despite their intent, is a key aspect of existentialist philosophy—something that has become a bit of an obsession in my own life. We may possess free will, but we must accept ambiguity and absurdity in order to make decisi...