Airtime and the Meaning of Life

Time flows constantly, unaware of what its wake looks like. It is the longest line with no end. Many events come about and end in brief periods along its wake, like the leap of a dolphin next to a gigantic cruise ship - its brief flight starts and ends in a splash. Very little airtime. That is a lifetime for us. So forget the cruise ship of time - let's observe the start and finish of that airtime in slow motion.

The nose of the dolphin is barely visible under clear blue water - almost as if it's frozen inside ice. We know it's coming - about to break the surface of water and spring upward - with tremendous force.

The dolphin surges up - in slow motion we see the sheets of water being dragged up with it, and a million drops of water jump up in joy, cheering, participating in the celebration of the beginning of airtime for the dolphin.

The sheets of water begin to peel off, separate from the dolphin, fall back down - as if taking a synchronized bow to an unstoppable glory. The sheets cascade back into the ocean like a million pieces of light. The million drops stop too, look down, and reverse - joining in the downward orchestra. Their airtime is shorter. It needs a slower frame rate to take in. Not now.

When I think about what'd make me sad about dying, hopefully when I am much older, I think it'd be the thought that I'd no longer be able to listen to music, sleep in my bed, be with the people I love. Then, would the purpose of life be only one thing: doing the things we can when we are alive? Things that make us feel alive? More alive? More alive, as in much more than just existence.

Maybe the dolphin feels completely alive when it leaps up - its airtime - above its natural habitat, outside of its life-supporting water. You perhaps miss the dolphin's expression, but you instinctively know it's a happy event for the dolphin. Airtime - it's levitating in pure joy. I bet the dolphin lives that entire airtime in slow motion in its mind and soul. Frame by frame.

As it crashes back into the ocean with tremendous force, it must be pure joy as well. Going back into what allows it to do the most alive thing it knows to do - gather speed and launch into air again.

The meaning of life is airtime. Living a life that supports airtime, and the actual airtime. Just does not get any better.