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What if there is no moral reason for life — what if the very existence of life, on this planet, or anywhere, is an accident? Why did all this struggle arise if not for the sake of some higher soul-making or perfection? One wonders. In a sense, every city dweller wonders, worries, that all the unhappiness and suffering they see has some meaning, for otherwise, it would be too grotesque. The number of homeless in New York, is, if not increasing, becoming more intense: there are panhandlers on every subway car; recently, I saw a boy, clothes completely torn, wandering up and down the car, completely deranged, shouting at passengers. Often, I look up at the sunny adds for new startups — promising better mattresses, razors, food delivery, sex — and then look down at what’s actually around me; I compare the fantasy of city life to what city life really is, and the contrast is startling.
What if we, as a civilization, mandated that any images that appeared in public space had to at least attempt to tell the truth — what if we criminalized selling a false vision of life at the expense of our own awareness, sensitivity, and connectedness?
Often, I tell myself — don’t waste today, before I immediately begin wasting it. The structure of…
