To achieve symbolic immortality, we must live a life of meaning; we must fashion a symbolic existence. So we define ourselves by our thoughts and aspirations and memories and intelligence and morality, things that can be transmitted through culture as abstractions. We extend our identities beyond the natural world; we become supernatural. But there’s another side to our existence, one less angelic. It’s the side that shits and bleeds and oozes and breaks and eventually stops working and rots away, just like every other creature on the planet. In Besker’s terms, we are “gods with anuses.” And this fact tears us apart; to the degree that we are mortal animals, we are not immortal souls. – Matthew Hutson, The 7 Laws of Magical Thinking
This is something I think about a lot, and so this resonated with me – up until the last sentence. Because these things have never torn me apart – in fact, I love them. I love thinking about the fact that all these luminaries and tyrants and religious figures also shitted and had stomachaches and everything else human and banal and boring.