Choice

It all started from pure chance — the Big Bang, all the so-called infusions that led to life, and all the selection that followed, with survival becoming natural selection. That forms the fabric of the universe we step into — and only after, among 300 million sperms, one successfully penetrates the egg and becomes you. Pretty random. One can use the same lines to justify existence of a grand design. I hold my view — it’s beside the point I intend to make here.

Yet here we are, and in this strange web of unlikelihood, we’ve stepped into life. Whether part of a grand design or not, we are the product of nothing but a draw from a limitless number of possibilities. I don't see any problem that we seek a creator or try to deny one. But, I can’t get my head around where we got this sense of specialness. A tiny flip in this sequence of events and you would be someone else — or not be at all.

Choice. Choice is the only thing left to us — structurally. I emphasize structurally because it’s embedded in the very fabric of existence. I’m not saying there’s a guaranteed outcome to every choice we make — though sometimes there is. The kind of choice I’m concerned with here is the choice of what vote we cast into the web, and then let the outcome reveal itself. In either case, choice remains certain and within our capacity — sometimes at the edge of that capacity. In cases where the outcome is certain, the results are often trivial. In the other cases, they often start a domino.

One choice I’ve made is to drop the idea of uncovering all the mysteries. I’d rather stop imposing all the juvenile concepts we humans have tried to project onto this structure — which is far beyond our wildest imagination — just to feel secure and safe. I’m not against contemplating the nature of existence, only against doing so under the illusion that we can understand it. I’m not convinced we’re capable of such a thing (at least at the current stage of human capacity). I relate to such contemplation only if it’s seen for what it is: a limited, local glimpse — not comprehension.

Choice. Every “yes” or “no” we say is a vote. That’s all we have in this life, and it matters deeply. Taking ownership of those choices is the foundation of a responsible 'living' — and even beyond that, the very meaning of 'living'. To be clear, I’m not calling it the foundation of contemplation on life, but of participation in life. I might write about contemplation another time. Here, I’m only asking: what is living? To me, it’s simple — focusing on the choices put in front of you. That’s the only vote we get to cast. That’s the only real participation in the fabric of the universe.

I don’t even want to talk about how to make better choices. The very idea of having a choice — and letting it go — is enough in itself. It’s disappointing to see how we human beings have reduced our domain of choice to which sofa to buy or what outfit to wear. Don’t get me wrong: I value those choices within the scope of life’s necessities — or even as expressions of passion. But what we see in our beloved modern world is often meaningless. We’re spending our lives obsessing over choices designed by the greed of an ever-shrinking few. Ok, let's not get carried away.

Choice. It’s the essence of living. It brings us down to the playground — to be part of what evolves and will shape the future of creation. It reminds me of the idea that “the burden of creation is on human shoulders.” (I won’t provide the reference to avoid distraction over love or hate — just stick to the concept.)

Lastly, the reason I decided to write this note is very personal. Today, I had a conversation with someone special. Every choice the two of us had made, every “yes” or “no” we had said along the way, had brought us to that point — to be where we were, to have that conversation, to stand at the edge of something few may ever get to experience. Then came another choice — one that will shape both our lives ahead. And just like that, a vote was cast for profound stories to remain unborn and roads to remain untraveled. There was a reference — genuinely, I felt — to the possibility of a “next life.” I felt a quiet awe, seeing how the only real gift life has given us — choice — left us at the mercy of the conceptualization of that next life. The only thing I know for sure is that you and I are each wildly unlikely events — let alone the chance of us meeting again. And my choice — to let the urge rest into silence.

Nov 8, 2025