My close friend has just left. Icy rain splatters onto my scalp and trickles down my face. My fingers and toes are bloated and turning purple from the cold. As she drives away in a taxi I feel the loss immediately. I’ve been anxious over this impending void all week. You see I used to think Israel was inherently powerful and beautiful, but lately I’m realizing that my friendship created a large part of my experience. My priorities have shifted to happiness. Last week my friend and I hiked the largest crater in the world. As I stared into the shimmering desert sky I found myself very wrapped up in the story of my life. I had to stop myself. As a little girl, I imagined Middle Eastern scenes of comfort and bliss. I stretched these static images into a linear timeline of life goals. I had forgotten that the original purpose was not achievement but relaxation and happiness. It occurred to me that Chris McCandless’ deathbed conclusion was right: Happiness is only real when shared.
Tonight I’m debating with a Yale graduate about technology. He tells me technology improves the quality of life of people across the globe as well as grant equal access to knowledge. I tell him such advancement is inextricably linked to a system that requires many to suffer. He describes advancements that will eventually lead to the end of disease, to the elimination of suffering due to physical ailments. He conceptualizes a world in which death becomes a choice. He dreams of transferring experiences and memories from person to person so that the world becomes truly empathetic. He talks of shared consciousness. In truth this man wants what religion has been advertising for a long time.
All I hear is return. There is no difference between Gilgamesh and the scientist who dreams of perfecting the human body to the point of postponing death indefinitely. If we stop getting caught up in the narrative of history and focus on our day to day actions, to the implications of our current choices, then maybe we’d understand the resulting negative effects. It’s when we start telling stories that sacrifices are made.
“Yes, technology patches a problem without fixing it,” he agrees with me. The rate at which we address flaws is exponentially increasing. The lapse between the problem and the answer is decreasing, don’t I know?
But it seems we are covering our tracks at a faster rate. We are trying not to feel the consequences of our world and we are able to seemingly erase them faster and faster. We have no time for morality. I imagine a person sweeping away their footprints until it looks like they’re not even walking. And then I find myself arguing for the utter necessity of death, for the value of loss. And the words come from my own mouth, “We have to die.”
