A love letter to eternity

To the one whom I have always loved dearest,

Long ago, when the sun still shone brightly, and my days were filled with laughter of the unafflicted sort, I found myself in a bustling airport terminal, awaiting a flight home on United Airlines. All of life’s worries had drifted away from the forefront of my mind, like petals of dandelions pirouetting softly into the infinite beyond. 

But then, as if it had been written an eternity ago, by the unswerving hand of fate, no less, my phone buzzed. A notification, from United Airlines — the plane had been delayed four hours. 

Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, a wave of pure terror descended upon me, and my bubble of blissful ignorance was shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Because in that instant, I understood that one day, I would die. 

Naturally, I collapsed to my knees in the airport terminal. People gave me sidelong glances, but whatever judgements they might’ve passed were insignificant in the most profound sense, because in no long while, I would be dust in the wind, and so too would they. 

What was I to do?

I thought about giving up, right then and there. Was there any point in continuing onwards? Anything I did — anything I achieved — anyone I loved — would all be rendered meaningless, lost forever in the unending river of time. 

But then, just before I resigned to my fate as a random, insignificant being, condemned to suffer the hardships of existence for the sake of nothing and no one, I grasped onto an idea — an idea which lifted my once-spiritless body off the terminal floor, and pointed me on a life-defining odyssey.

At that moment, I knew that I needed to escape my own death.

With that, I set out, knowing not what I was searching for, or where I would find it, but resolving to persist until I either found my escape or dropped dead trying. I traversed scorching deserts and meandered below cascading waterfalls. I gallivanted through boundless pastures, amongst wild ponies and cooing meadowlarks and crested jagged mountain peaks, with troops of loyal mountain goats at my heel.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of wandering, I came across a lone cabin, tucked way back in some distant woodland. As I approached, I noticed a plume of smoke, swirling quietly above the well-masoned chimney, indicating that somebody resided there. 

I knocked at the door, and was greeted by an elderly man, with a tattered flannel coat and untrimmed beard. His most prominent feature, however, was his teeth, which sparkled an unblemished white. 

The man asked me why I had come to such a secluded place, and so I informed him of my quest to escape death. Immediately, his eyes lit up, with a strange and almost off-putting vigor. Placing his hand firmly on my shoulder, the man told me that long ago, he too had undertaken the same quest, and after years of aimless roaming, had discovered the answer.

“Tell me, how do I escape death?” I asked eagerly.

“God,” the man said. “The only way to escape death is through faith in God.”

With that, I departed from the cabin, my sense of passion abounding. From that day onwards, I would live for eternity in communion with God, and even the most wretched of sufferings could not deter my now-unshakable faith. 

Then, just as I was readying to fall to my knees in utter reverence, my phone buzzed, yet again with a notification from United Airlines. The plane had been delayed another two hours. But there was another notification as well — a text message, from Friedrich Nietzsche.

“God is dead,” the text read.

In an instant, all of my eternal hopes and dreams came crashing down unceremoniously, because I realized that God was not only dead, but had, in fact, never existed, and was merely the hopeful projections of men pursuing the same death-defying quest as was I. Yet again, my life was meaningless, and in no long while, the reaper’s scythe would be rapping at my door, soon to fulfill the prophecy that I so desperately hoped would never come true. My quest was over; never would I find my long-sought after escape. The old man thought he was wise, but I saw the truth, and knew that his fate would be the same as mine and everybody else’s — death, for eternity. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Hanging my head in despair, I decided that it would be best to appreciate the few brief and meaningless moments I had left. I wandered down towards the ocean. And when I reached the beach, I sat there for a while and watched the tide lap rhythmically against the sandy shoreline. 

Suddenly, a woman appeared, lounging on a plateau of rocks just in front of me. Never in my life had I beheld anything so beautiful. Her flowing hair waved tenderly in the coastal breeze, and in her vivacious blue eyes, I caught a glimpse of something that I had long since given up on: eternity. 

I went over to her, and she extended her hand in a most gentle and gracious manner, helping me up onto her perch. Then, leaning in closely and speaking in a whisper, she told me that she was a goddess from the eternal beyond, and held the answers that I was searching for.

“To escape death,” she said to me, “you must appreciate all the many pleasures of this world.”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed. “How could it have taken me so long to understand?!”

And so I stayed with her beside the ocean for a while, cherishing her beauty, and the beauty of all that which surrounded me. And I was happy again, because I knew that this blissful state would continue forever, and that the beauty of this goddess, and the ocean, and the breaking waves, and the salty seabreeze were far out of reach from death’s cruel, meddling fingers. 

But then, as I laid my head to rest on the goddess’s shoulder, I felt something buzz in my pocket. It was a notification from United Airlines. The plane had been delayed again. 

We know how this story goes.

In the blink of an eye, I saw the crushing transience in all these things I once found beautiful. How could I appreciate this goddess, or the ocean, or the seabreeze, if they would all one day be gone, and so too I? I leapt from the rocky perch and ran as fast as I could across the beach. I ran back through the boundless pastures and scorching deserts, and past the old man’s cabin, and the horses, and meadowlarks, and mountain goats, and, eventually, up a jagged mountain peak, which towered forebodingly above all else. 

When I summited the mountain, I could run no more, and so I collapsed into a heap of absolute anguish. As I laid there, I felt a cool breeze, blowing up from somewhere below. I looked down beneath me, and saw nothing, other than infinite darkness. I looked up above, and saw the same. Alas, I had arrived. This was my moment of reckoning. 

This was the Abyss. 

But then, as I looked closer, I saw something else. My own reflection, staring right back at me. My eyes were cold, but also content. My expression was somber, but in a bizarre way, satisfied. At long last, I realized, my quest to escape death was finished, for I had found the answer. 

Myself. I was the escape. Nothing else could offer me eternal refuge, other than myself, because I existed in that present moment, and as such, would exist forever. I did not feel happiness, for I was much too wise now to experience such a naive emotion. What I did feel, on an impossibly overwhelming scale, was relief. 

Then, as if on queue, I felt that slight buzz in my pocket again. I almost pretended not to notice, but deep down, I knew what I had felt. I reached for my phone, my hand trembling, my heart racing. Tears welled up in my eyes. It couldn’t be, and yet, at the same time, it had to be. Etched in blood across the screen was a notification from United Airlines. My flight had been canceled.

With that, I threw myself headfirst into the Abyss.

Then, after falling through nothingness for an eternity, I landed right back where I had started: in the airport terminal, on the floor, with a crowd of confused travelers staring at me. I glanced around curiously, attempting to find my bearings, then pulled myself off the terminal floor slowly. As I did, the onlookers broke into a subdued, yet sincere applause, for they were subconsciously aware of the odyssey which I had just undertaken. 

I smiled in their direction, walked towards the gate, nodded slightly at the attendant, then boarded an airplane. 

Its destination — eternity. 

Yours truly,

T.W.