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I sat and wondered about this for a while. What does my life matter after ten million years...and how does it compare in divinity or sacredness to a gnat or a beetle?

I looked down at the bug I killed, his body sitting on my desk. One less life in the world. One more death. And the world goes on. Where is the meaning?

I leaned forward. Looked at his appendages, his body, his shell, his head. Suddenly I realized it was all rather intricate. I knew that if I were to take this creature apart and study it for a hundred years, I would never know all there is to know about it.

What a marvelous little machine! What a grand invention! And then I knew: Of all the bugs just like this one around the world, none was exactly like this one. The complexity built into this little organism guarantees that it may be similar to others, but it is still completely unique. There was only one of this bug.

It seems, then, that whatever God or process constructed this animal, it took just as much care with it as it does the largest beast. There was just as much detail, just as much inventiveness, the same miracle of organization and perfection.

Is the life of the bug more important than mine? It is infinitely complex, but so am I. Great attention was paid to the building of this animal, great attention was also paid to me. If it is a miracle, then so am I. If it is sacred or divine, than so am I. We are both part of the process of life, both important, and both disposable.

Is the life of the bug more important than mine? Suddenly, I don't think so, but I also don't think mine is more important than its, either.

I'm surprised to find that I feel much better.

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