Is life history in its making? Or is history made in hindsight? I tend to believe the latter, so then, what is life? I don't want to hear all the bunk about life is what you make it, because what I see us making is a narrative to help us make sense of (or pretend we know) what we can't know; and there is a lot that we can't know. And if history is made in hindsight, once my life is history it will either be forgotten or misinterpreted. So accepting this, I must decide if I believe I will be judged and on what criteria and by whom. These are weighty questions. I believe I will be judged at the least by my self, (I believe I already do this), and I do not discount the possibility I will be judged by others. I cannot know the criteria on which others may judge me, but I can (and do) ponder seriously the criteria on which I judge myself; that criteria evolves, daily. I believe the third question, (though full of influence and meaning), should be less consequential than it typically is. Judged by whom insinuates the question, do you believe in God? If one claims a belief in God and an afterlife, I have asked before, “Will God judge on how much you professed to Love Her while here on Earth? Or will She judge on your efforts to take care of Her manifestation here on Earth; (i.e. All of Nature, All of Humanity)?" And if the latter, how are we doing? To be completely clear, I am saying I am the most qualified to choose the criteria and to judge my self, and I should expend effort every day questioning and revising both that criteria and that judgement. So again I ask, what is life?

Like it or not, one life is a mere moment across the span of all life, and one's moments are incidental across the span of one's lifetime. We work very hard to make order from chaos. We work very hard to attach meaning and purpose to this jumble of random, disjointed, wandering moments that carry us from birth to death, and this gives us comfort. And though they may contribute to a storyline, an episode, or an anecdote, most moments are the direct result of and/or greatly influenced by surrounding moments; moments belonging to both us and others. In this regard, life is momentary and we collectively make it but individually interpret it and define it.

Example:

In this very moment I am walking to work. I press a button to cross a major street, get the signal to cross, look both ways, and watch as a large pickup truck speeds through their red light. Now looking back, my moment, fear and anger, was greatly impacted by their moment, stupidity and ignorance. These moments do contribute to storylines – His: I am powerful, more important, and entitled, or, Mine: I am too often helpless and powerless and we should take better care – but the reality is that guy is not more important and only momentarily more powerful, and I am not going to save the world. Regardless, I believe we will both continue to work at connecting the dots.

So I suppose what I am saying is, as a human I am compelled to assign meaning but the meaning or purpose I assign is a superficial layer masking life, and the life underneath is the moment. I am definitely not saying live only in or for the moment, and I don't think I am saying one should not work to properly interpret past moments or positively influence future moments, but I think I am saying one should not get so caught up in any given moment that it is transformed into an entire life or an episode or even an anecdote. Dots are dots.

…and though the connective tissue between them may allow a canvas to be stretched giving the appearance of integrity and (depending on the skill of the creator) even beauty, the building blocks remain a jumble of random, disjointed, wandering moments.

Dots are dots.

This is life.