Is life astronomically rare, and should we therefore, as a matter of the principal of rarity in occurrence, care more for it? We can decide for ourselves, but in my heart, life by default seems overrated. Well... the proposed sacrality of it seems so at least, and in this proposed sacrality there is something which makes me want to belch! And as a measure of bitterly assured hostility, I rip the virginal cloth from its face, the cloth which veils it with the shroud of embroided and beautified dread... and beneath it reveals to me a dead body, for life is a corpse dolled-up for funeral... Beautify that ugliness and see how long the surface holds before it will crack like the tendons of an old ballerina!!! By tomorrow it will crack and peel, believe that. All dies, everything falls into death; horror to some, relief to others. Life is weird, and one may conceptualize biological life as a rarity in extremis, the odds of the cultivation of sentience and organic life being, in presumption, unfathomably rare, astronomically small –but does not rarity, the practical happening of it, exist in inevitability given it has as much time and space needed in order to cultivate it, trigger in it a response? Yes, if you have enough space and time to allow for it, rarity becomes certainty... in fact, all kinds of rarities are bound to happen, if they become enclosed in eternal and endlessly proliferating circumstance: given enough space and time, everything grows, everything happens. What some see as rare, I see as inevitable. We are inevitable, as inevitable as we are rare–we had enough space, we had enough time–we happened. And this, my reader, is the living pulse of existentialism–the philosophy which puts a dagger to the back of all other ones! Are you burning purposelessly ad infinituum, Darvaza-like? Or are you more of a piece of blackened coal?
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