You are here, somewhere I can't see you. It's too far away, but you're here—somewhere, maybe here, maybe there. You could be almost anywhere, but you're definitely here. You don't know why or for what. No one does. All you know—all I know—is that you are somewhere here, magnetized to this strange, lushly coated, wet rock floating (earth) in its designated position in endless nothingness.
This rock you are on is tiny, and you are tiny compared to this rock. If we zoom out just a little, look how tiny you are. Even further—tinier. You're so tiny that your brain can't fully comprehend it. Your tiny self is posted up on this tiny rock, surrounded by dark, massive, unending space that could be anything and nothing at the same time.
This rock will give you life. It will give you everything you need to live on its crust for a period of time. It might feel like a while, or it might feel like no time at all, depending on your mood when you consider this idea. Regardless of how it feels, when compared to almost everything else, it will be so, so short—a single frame in a movie that never ends. A frame that could be removed, and nothing would really change about the movie.
In this brief frame, you will live on this rock, and then you will die. You'll have no idea what happened. No one will. If you're really lucky, you'll have some friends, family, and lovers who will be sad for a little while. They'll miss you, but they'll try hard not to because being sad and missing someone all the time is really tiresome. It'll mess up their lives, so they'll try to work through it and move on as best they can. They might go to therapy or practice techniques to get through grieving. They'll probably be somewhat successful. They will also die.
If you're even more unusually lucky, you'll be missed and remembered a little longer by a few more people. Perhaps you did something that impacted others while you lived on this rock. Perhaps you were profoundly artistic, smart, a leader, or an inventor. When you die, maybe more people will be sad for a little longer stretch of time. Most of these people, however, would have never really known you, so they won't think about you too much for too long either. And when they do, it'll mostly be a misconstruction of you based on their own ideals.
They will all die. Over time, every person, every memory of a person, will all die with each other. It won't matter to you. It won't matter to anyone. We'll all be gone. The things you did, the words you said, the impacts you made—good or bad, big or small—will all lose their nametags and fade into oblivion.
So, whatever you're nervous about right now—whoever you're nervous because of, whether it's a first date, a job interview, a big presentation, an important test, or a hard conversation—you might feel paralyzed with anxiety. You might feel like the course of your life is hinged on this coming moment, that the fate of reality rests on your shoulders. It's not. You might worry about doing the wrong thing or failing. You might. But everything will be okay.
Because for some reason, against all conceivable odds, you're on this weird rock—this planet that births life, life that births more life, novel life, intelligent life—you. In this unknowable vacuum of potential nihility, you have this playground, this consciousness, this capacity for wonder, emotion, and thought. The only real mistake you can make is failing to recognize this. To never relax and enjoy the hilarious and enthralling absurdity of it all. To forget that it all means nothing beyond itself—and to miss the freedom and inspiration in that thought.
Explore and connect with what it can mean to be you on a rock, in a solar system, in a galaxy, in a universe, in a who-knows-what. Be kind. Be decent. Have fun. Love. Laugh. Cry. Try. Fail. Live. And remember—no matter what happens, you can still do all of this. No matter what you do in life, the worst case is that you try your best, be yourself, and do what you can with compassion, honesty, effort, and understanding. If it goes badly, you move on—like everything else.
Now, still feeling stressed?