Chosen Over

There’s an old folk song from about three hundred years ago called “Am I Born to Die?”. It’s often on my mind when I’m walking these clifftops. Close to the edge is everything that was never meant to make it, lost to erosion or seeded in soil too dry to retain the rain. I’ll admit I’m drawn to death, whether it’s what nature couldn’t help, or humanity didn’t care for. Despite this, I consider myself only sporadically philosophical. My bent toward overthinking is one I’ve worked hard to shake. As a child, I was raised to believe that finding The Answer was a great relief and source of peace. Certainty was everywhere in those days, and almost everyone I knew was always right. We were the kind of religious that believed we weren’t religious — a dangerous mindset when you’re already thinking you’re chosen over the rest. Every kind of “Why?” had a pre-set response, thought-terminating clichés designed to stop you from asking quick as possible. But to my credit, even after I stopped speaking, I still kept questions in my mind. The greatest revelation I experienced was learning how much was unknown. By science, by faith, by all forms of understanding. In most of existence, there is no why, and there is no reason. In that, I find my reason, and a peace beyond all understanding.

January 13, 2026
Morden, Nova Scotia

Year 19, Day 6638 of my daily journal.