There’s this scene in that movie Troy where Achilles is talking to this woman whose life he just saved. I think she tries to kill him later that night and then has sex with him, but I hardly remember any of the plot. What I do remember: he was telling her that the gods envy us, because we are doomed, and that makes life that much more precious, knowing that we will never again be as beautiful as we are in this moment of fleeting youth.
I thought about that suddenly this morning, reading a chapter on existential psychology in my textbook, meditating on dasein. I was also, coincidentally, drinking orange blossom green tea, staring out through the translucent shades of a Starbucks window pane at a gray cloud blanketed sky, and watching one of those small parking lot trees struggle against a gust of wind, losing the last of its brown-orange leaves, left dangling and clinging desperately to the dry branches. Shriveled up and turning sharply back and forth, they looked almost like a pack of moths caught up in a knotted bramble.