Cine suntem si de ce suntem? Ce semnificatie are existenta noastra? Pentru ce traim? O multime de intrebari si o multime si mai mare de raspunsuri. V-ati intrebat vreodata de ce va mai treziti a doua zi dimineata pentru a incepe o noua zi? Pentru ca nu aveti incotro, sunteti vii? Din inertie? Pentru job? Pentru cei dragi voua? Pentru a obtine ceva? Sau poate pur si simplu pentru a va bucura de putinul timp pe care il aveti? Cati dintre voi va puneti aceasta intrebare si aveti si un raspuns pentru ea?

Eu am vrut sa aflu secretul vietii. Pentru ca am vazut atatia oameni luptandu-se pentru succes, dedicandu-si viata unor scopuri care se vor pierde odata cu ei in tarana. Am vazut lupta, glorie, lacrimi si tacere. Pagini intregi de istorie pe care o studiem fara sa intelegem cauzele; un trecut cu lectiile neinvatate. Am vrut sa le inteleg pe toate. O misiune imposibila, nu-i asa?

“All the truths taken together make only one truth. I had had to wait until that day to learn this simple thing. It was this truth of truths which I needed. Not because of my love of mankind. It is not true that we love mankind. No one ever has loved, does love, or will love mankind. It was for myself, solely for myself, that I sought to attain the full truth, which is above emotion, above peace, even above life, like a sort of death. I wanted to derive guidance from it, a faith. I wanted to use it for my own good.” (Henri Barbusse, The Inferno)

Nu l-am gasit. Sau poate l-am gasit dar nu vreau sa-l impartasesc. Cine suntem noi? Noi suntem dorinta de a nu muri si asta am fost din totdeauna. Ne e frica de moarte, atat de frica incat ne straduim toata viata sa amanam momentul sau chiar sa-l anulam. Ne straduim sa fim, sa cotinuam sa fim, sa lasam ceva in urma. De ce ne zbatem atata? Adevarul e ca viata nu are nici un sens, singurul sens pe care il are este cel pe care-l atribuim chiar noi insine. Oare nu este nevoie sa-ti cunosti intai sinele inainte de a determina ce sens doreste acest sine sa atribuie propriei vieti? Suntem singuri intr-o perpetua calatorie de autocunoastere.

“Where are the words that will light the way? What is humanity in the world, and what is the world? Everything is within me, and there are no judges, and there are no boundaries and no limits to me. The de profundis, the effort not to die, the fall of desire with its soaring cry, all this has not stopped. It is part of the immense liberty which the incessant mechanism of the human heart exercises (always something different, always!).

We do not die. Each human being is alone in the world. It seems absurd, contradictory to say this, and yet it is so. All we can say is: I am alone. And that is why we do not die. Once, bowed in the evening light, the dead man had said, “After my death, life will continue. Every detail in the world will continue to occupy the same place quietly. All the traces of my passing will die little by little, and the void I leave behind will be filled once more.” He was mistaken in saying so. He carried all the truth with him. Yet we, we saw him die. He was dead for us, but not for himself. I feel there is a fearfully difficult truth here which we must get, a formidable contradiction. But I hold on to the two ends of it.

“Every human being is the whole truth.” I return to what I heard. We do not die since we are alone. It is the others who die. And this sentence, which comes to my lips tremulously, at once baleful and beaming with light, announces that death is a false god. Was it out of pride or joy that I began to smile when the first white streaks of dawn turned my lamp pale and I saw I was alone in the universe?” (Henri Barbusse, The Inferno)