the starfish story

you come across a man at the beach, picking up the starfishes being left behind by the receding tide, and throwing them back into the waves. he does this for minutes, throwing each red and grey and blue stars back into the retreating water. but for each one he throws back, ten more lay at his feet. you ask him why he is doing this - doesn't he know there are starfishes all along the shoreline, as many as the stars in the sky, and he can never throw them all back into the water. he simply smiles, nods, and bends over to pick up another starfish.

the futility of the task was never the problem for me. for me, the problem was the fact that, come the next low tide, more starfishes will be left to dry out in the sun. it is simply nature's way. there is nothing one man can do to change that. why should a man want to deny what is simply the circle of life? we are born and we will die. it has always been thus. what is that man doing throwing the starfishes back into the ocean? what is he trying to achieve? the amount of time he buys for each of those starfishes are negligible in the grand scheme of things. true, to the starfishes it may mean everything. but to the man? why does he do it? why do we do anything to help other people? we will all die in the end, that is the way it goes.

perhaps he does it not for the starfishes but for himself. maybe it gives him hope. maybe it gives his life purpose. maybe helping other people is one way to help ourselves. i don't know. there are no winners, only losers. there are no happy endings, only tragedies. there are no heroes finding eternal peace, only an ordinary person doing their best and failing, then moving on, to dream another dream, to die another day.