Thursday, March 26, 2026
My mind won’t make sense of my innate struggle to survive. I would fight to the bitter end if someone was choking me. But why would I do that, when the better part of me knows death is inevitable? Why “fight” for my inherency?
Did I fight to be born, for my circumstances, or for my eye color? Will I fight to die? Birth and death seem inherently given, outside of my sense of control, so why would staying alive be different? Is fighting worth fighting for? When you get into the mechanics of “core values,” it falls apart.
What I find difficult to pinpoint is value itself. I don’t know what’s of “utmost importance.” What’s the price of existence? I’m not willing to die for anything, not even for God. Yet, if I were being choked, I would die for air—my “god” would be air, and I would do anything for “him.” Nothing would be more important than air, that is, until death becomes preferable to choking.
Ultimately, I wonder if there is anything valuable in the truest sense. If anything is of utmost importance, it’s that I am aware that I am aware. And in that, I am saved from what traps me: fearing death. The creature fears death and cannot be overridden when under threat.
How important is God when you’re drowning? If your lungs are filling with water, you won’t look for a temple or a church. You’ll “naturally” gasp for what you’re desperate for—relief. But what if you’re not drowning, suffocating, or suffering? What’s worth fighting for?
What I place value on is unreachable, but at the core of who I am. Those are core values. I do not fight for what’s inherent, for what’s free, and for what’s not provable, yet knowable, noble, and true.