the unbearable lightness of being

The lightness of being means accepting that life is meaningless.

Life becomes unbearable when accepting that life is meaningless becomes impossible. We tend to want our actions to have meaning. This lightness of being is instead a painfully heavy weight carried around day in and day out.

Milan Kundera would have us believe that we have one life to live and that in the end it means nothing. Does this give us carte blanche to do whatever we want, or does it create an unbearable encumbrance to all our decisions and choices?

Some acts have more consequence than others, and some track throughout our short history. Not only will we cease to exist at some point, but the passing of time will render our past actions meaningless.

But what of the ancient idea that time is circular? Perhaps our destiny is to repeat this life over and over for infinity. Eternal return is not a new idea.

Which is worse?  This current life being the only chance you have and that once it’s over none of it mattered, or that each choice you make in this life repeats over and over?

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