Eternal Recurrence

The greatest weight. -- What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: "This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence - even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!" Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus?... Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?

Ah, the eternal recurrence—how can a concept speak so deeply to me and disturb my soul? I guess the first time I thought about wanting to live an interesting life was in school, back when I believed interesting things were happening: first love, kisses, a girlfriend, sex, cool friendships that I thought could last forever. What an interesting time—quite different from early adulthood.

I’m not so different from most people. When I find a compelling story, I’m instantly hooked, you know? I want to live it as the main character or at least be there to witness it unfold. The kind of story I love most is about the free wanderer archetype—the guy who doesn’t care about leaving everything behind to keep moving, to experience another story in another place, over and over.

I suppose I like those stories because I lack the courage to do the same. I’d love to grab a small bag, leave home, and see where I end up. My close ones know I’m quite idealistic, so I’m aware of that. Still, this constant grind of life was never part of the plan. If I were to live that kind of life, I’d choose the roads with the most beautiful landscapes.

The trees, the ocean, the sky, and the mountains—I love to contemplate you. If I were that wanderer, I’d pass through you on every trip and talk to you, even if someone saw me and called me crazy.

Grinding and grinding was the solution I found when I started working. I thought, "Well, if I do it really hard, I can retire early and start living life"—as if that guaranteed I’d even make it there. Still, I feel like I can’t escape this. I need to do something about it—I know that. My life shouldn’t be measured by how much time I spent at home studying or programming. "Hey, Dad, how was your life?" "I just stayed studying and working all the time until I retired." Is that a conversation I’ll have with my child—if I ever have one in the first place?

Maybe my life is just boring, but I have a feeling most people’s lives are too. And even though we might have the capacity to make them great, since we don’t know how, we settle for contentment in the boredom. I’ve always thought of eternal recurrence as a tool to check if we’re living a life worth living.

If you had to live this exact life, every moment of it, again and again eternally, how quickly would you grow bored? I must admit, in my case, it would happen quite fast. There’s no escaping boredom forever—eventually, it catches up to you, even in the most exciting lives. Still, we can create great moments so that, if we were to relive our lives eternally, we’d at least feel eager to reach those beautiful instants where boredom can’t touch us.

From time to time, those moments have found me, but as years pass, they’ve become much rarer. That’s a passive way to live—just existing, waiting for them to happen. I wonder if I can become the kind of person who creates those moments. For a long time, I’ve been learning how to learn, applying it to mundane skills. Could it be possible to learn how to live life to its fullest? Now that would be an interesting project.

Well, tomorrow I have a boring certification test to do, so wish me luck, Void.