When Albert Einstein presented his theory of General Relativity, he did so without knowing that he was not only explaining the death of a star under overwhelming gravity, but dissecting the human who, in his principle, resembles the stars, as we do this world.
Einstein stated that when a star dies, it leaves behind a small remnant core. In his equation, if the star's mass is more than three times the mass of the sun, the force of gravity overwhelms all other forces and produces what the Princeton physics John Wheeler coined "a black hole." Most black holes are formed from the remnants of a large star that dies in a supernova explosion. A larger star upon explosion, holds the light while smaller, dense neutron stars aren't massive enough to hold light.
If we, individually, are stars, nearing the sun, which represents time, we degrade and diminish without restraint. As we consistently near the sun (time), our mass (what we do in this life) when we succumb to that single moment (death), it is light that we leave in this life, that natural agent that stimulates sight and makes all visible, the electromagnetic radiation whose wavelengths falls within the range to which the human retina responds, that lives on, throughout time, in immortality. The intense interest of the labyrinth of human nature may have been pinpointed in 1915, when space-time was first described by the solo physicist.
Death is one moment, one single moment, never drawn out, delayed as a hesitancy- it is one moment. To all it has come to be feared, it is nothing more than the moment of our physical demise. That single moment, hidden away from us in utter and terrifying mystery dictates, as it should not, the way we live. But preceding that single moment, are moments available for many to thrive, to liberate and liberate thyself, moments to love, flutter, attempt the flutter and make haste of the deepest of all desires. If one capitalize on those moments, capitalize to the fullest, then that single moment held by death is no longer grandiose, it survives because man survives and must die, yet it is outweighed by the moments we choose to live. Mankind should not be a breathing stone but a shifting mountain that shape-shifts the wind, causes the wind to circumvent, the waters to part, the trees to grow elsewhere. Say nothing of what is to come but only what is, what can be, and what was that is no more.
We are all nevertheless together at the end, separated truly, finely by the way we choose to live in the interstitial between birth and death. We can and cannot, can depending on our strength and our will to soldier on past obstacles guaranteed to us in this life. We can-not from the unanimous defeat at the hands of these beatings, refusal to rise and present another knockdown to follow. In this refusal to rise is the forfeiture of the possibility of a birth of courage, a possibility of will to go the distance, battle this life to the very last breathe. There is the mind and there is the body, one indivisible, if can surpass all, each on its own separate entity, falters and becomes nothing and learn that it is of nothing.
A sense of beginning, one of the end, that is the art of living on one's own terms, dream of a life and toil to create it. And to create this life, everything outside of its realm must become peripheral, else an ephemeral feather drifting bound to depart, or bound, by the life imagined, created and exiled.
Dontrell Lovet't
-from [To Whom All Humanity is Dreaming]
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