We all have a contract with finitude and share the same destiny. There are so many diversions and schemas that navigate this fact. Hard as it seems, we have to acknowledge that each of us at the table will eventually be part of the meal. We will eventually become echoes in the ‘field-of-beings’. It is the paradox of the ‘me’ and the ‘we’, the journey made alone and together.
“I stick my finger in existence — it smells of nothing. Where am I? Who am I? How came I here? What is this thing called the world? What does this world mean? Who is it that has lured me into the world? Why was I not consulted, why not made acquainted with its manners and customs instead of throwing me into the ranks, as if I had been bought by a kidnapper, a dealer in souls? How did I obtain an interest in this big enterprise they call reality? Why should I have an interest in it? Is it not a voluntary concern? And if I am to be compelled to take part in it, where is the director? I should like to make a remark to him. Is there no director? Whither shall I turn with my complaint?”