If we consider that life is a path, that it is traveled only forward, on which one can not return anymore because the memory, certainly deceitful, and sometimes even fortunately; that makes us overcome obstacles, making us come up against different situations and people, and if we are aware of the butterfly effect of our actions, we have to understand that we always leave a mark. The paradox of the metaphor of life as a path that we travel at every moment, with its ups and downs, is that our tracks do not remain on the road (not even metaphorically, however paradoxical it may sound), but we always leave a mark on the other.
And the truth is that life itself, from the smallest cell, never gives itself. You can discuss different hypotheses about the origin of life, but what would be useful to know the origin, if in the day to day we can not understand what it is? Would it really change us to know how everything started? What would it be worth for God to "come down" with scientific evidence of his existence and creation? Or to confirm that we are the result of a big explosion?
Although it sounds nice to think that we are fragments of stars or fires, in truth, the question is "What are we?" it seems to cause discomfort in almost all contexts, and for sure, the answer always ends up slipping between our fingers.
Then, if there is no living being on the face of the earth that can exist without another; If everything needs to be, at least, created by another, there is nothing left but to accept the only answer, without valid doubts, to our disturbing question: What are we?
We are living beings
Perhaps, in these liquid times, where Baumanian uncertainty reigns, our only certainty is that even to define ourselves as selfish, we need to recognize the other as such.
