A Desire to Soar

Yemenat

Ahmed Saif Hashed

Existence has long been troubled by profound questions, rich with desire and a yearning for knowledge. Humanity seeks the “lost truth,” striving to lift the veils that conceal the mysterious and ambiguous.

This existential anxiety is unquenchable and persistent. It has been felt throughout history and continues to resonate today. Humanity has endured trials, learning from them and reflecting on its thoughts. This process has often led to a renewal of ideas or a confrontation with what has decayed over time.

The journey through struggle and denial has exacted a heavy toll marked by bloodshed, suffering, and destruction. In this process, humanity has often uncovered previously unquestioned certainties—accepted willingly or under duress—that have withered away or been dismantled. This revelation has opened new horizons, nurturing expansive hopes for a better life and driving progress in the quest for freedom.

Throughout history, humanity has grappled with doubt, seeking to differentiate error from truth. It pursues the unknown, searching for knowledge that can offer solace for the soul.

In this enduring struggle, science has triumphed alongside the rightful pursuit of freedom and understanding, overcoming ignorance fortified by oppression and dismantling the “certainties” built on illusions.

With the advancement of science and the accumulation of knowledge, humanity continues to vanquish ignorance, regardless of how entrenched and prolonged its darkness may be.ity has long borne its share of misery and suffering, accompanied by a rebellious spirit that fuels a relentless quest for answers to life’s profound questions.

There exists within us a passionate yearning for hope, driven by an insatiable curiosity that propels the pursuit and generation of knowledge without weariness or hesitation. This awareness is rich with ideas, theories, and a multitude of philosophical struggles in a realm that should be boundless.

It is marked by fervent debate and existential dilemmas, some escalating to the level of existential protest.

Were we brought into existence by chance or necessity? Is there another answer, or is the truth a secret hidden in the realm of the unseen? How did we come to inhabit this life? These questions have long perplexed philosophers, thinkers, and poets, both ancient and modern.

In the race of 300 million sperm, only one succeeds in fertilizing the egg and beginning its journey in the mother’s womb; the rest perish. This chance seems almost impossibly slim. What kind of fate results in a ratio of approximately 1 to 300 million? Who among them is truly fortunate—the one who achieves life or the one who meets death and oblivion before entering this tumultuous world?

The success of that single sperm is the reason for each of our existences. Reflecting on this existence, some may view it as a choice made in hope, anticipation, and acceptance. Others might see the unknown as a source of doubt, devoid of hope in a world filled with illusions and lies.

Some may reject this existence if granted the freedom to choose—a choice that hinges on profound understanding and extensive knowledge.

For these individuals, life is perceived as suffering and torment; they regard success in life as merely a triumph over pain and regret. What some perceive as loss, others see as a preemptive liberation from the unending hardships of life, which cease only with death.

The esteemed Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky once declared, “If my birth were contingent upon my will, I would refuse to exist under such mocking circumstances.” He pondered, “Is it not madness to bring children into such wretched conditions?” The melancholic Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran contends that the truly fortunate are those who never reach the egg, while the unfortunate are those who do. He reflects, “For the fleeting ecstasy of no more than nine seconds, a person is born to endure seventy years of suffering.

” He adds, “I have committed every crime except for being a father.”

Arthur Schopenhauer offers a grim perspective, asserting that “sacrificing pleasure to avoid pain is a clear gain,” describing life as “swinging like a pendulum between pain and boredom.” The poet and philosopher Abu al-Ala al-Maari requested that the inscription on his grave read: “This is what my father bequeathed to me… and I have wronged no one.”

In the view of Czech writer Franz Kafka, life resembles a war—a conflict against oneself, one’s circumstances, and the fools who have created those circumstances.

Anton Chekhov suggests that with death, one becomes the ultimate victor; there is no longer a need to chase after food, drink, or pay taxes, nor to engage in arguments with others. Emil Cioran perceives death as our final salvation.

American author Mark Twain mockingly observes the nature of life and death, stating, “People are born to hurt each other, and then they die.” Others deride the absurdity of existence, with quips like: “Cats were created to eat mice, and mice were created to be eaten by cats.” Some question this “absurdity,” asking, “If we know that those born now will eventually die, why does nature allow us to continue committing this sin?”

The American novelist Herman Melville contends that “life is merely a crude joke played on us by the gods, and the best we can do is join them in the game and share in their laughter.” In stark contrast, the English playwright William Shakespeare perceives life as nothing more than a stage, populated by a wretched actor engulfed in anxiety—a narrative filled with noise and fury but ultimately devoid of meaning.

Arthur Schopenhauer asserts that life is fundamentally suffering, characterizing human existence as chaotic and devoid of purpose. Friedrich Nietzsche claims that life has never been fair, refuting the notion of any divine providence overseeing human affairs.

Meanwhile, Dostoevsky views life as a hellish experience, while Socrates regards it as a trial, and Bertrand Russell describes it as “a competition where each of us desires to be the criminal, not the victim.”

Conversely, life embodies art for Pablo Picasso, love for Mahatma Gandhi, knowledge for Albert Einstein, and hope for Stephen Hawking. In a brief yet profound tale titled “The Old Man and Death,” Leo Tolstoy conveys that life retains its preciousness regardless of age. The narrative unfolds as follows:

“After gathering firewood in the forest, an old man placed a bundle on his back, intending to carry it away. Exhausted, he set down his load and lamented, ‘Alas! I wish death would come!’ Suddenly, death appeared and said, ‘Here I am; what do you want from me?’ The old man, seized by fear, replied, ‘I want you to help me carry this firewood once more!’”

Some draw a dialectical connection between consciousness and the pain that intensifies with increased awareness. They argue that as one elevates their consciousness and accumulates knowledge, they simultaneously amplify their suffering. In this context, Schopenhauer observes, “The more one understands, the greater one’s capacity for pain becomes.” Kafka asserts, “The first signs of understanding are a desire for death; excessive awareness is more perilous than drugs.” Cioran regards consciousness as a chronic curse, declaring that ignorance is a homeland while awareness constitutes an exile. Dostoevsky paints excessive consciousness as a genuine affliction.

Certain religions suggest we are born to die—or more accurately, to prepare for death. We engage in this earthly life in anticipation of the afterlife, striving to meet God’s countenance while He is pleased with us, so that we may enter His paradise. Those who fail in this endeavor face a grim fate in hell.