The illusion of Llfe: How death strips away everything, by Martins Itua

There’s a quiet truth we all know but seldom speak about—a truth that lies beneath the surface of everything we do. We are born, we live, we dream, we strive. But in the end, we die. And when we do, all that we have built, all the love we have shared, all the victories and losses we have gathered along the way are swallowed by the inevitable silence that follows. Death comes for us all, and with it, every achievement, every moment, is rendered fleeting and inconsequential.

This is not an easy reality to confront. It’s unsettling to consider that life, with all its complexities, struggles, and joys, will eventually end in nothing. Death doesn’t discriminate, and it strips away everything we have known—leaving behind nothing but memories, and even those will fade in time.

In this truth lies a deeper question: why do we keep going, knowing that life will eventually end? Why do we invest in dreams, relationships, and legacies when everything will ultimately disappear? This is where religion often steps in, offering an illusion of eternity to soothe the harshness of reality.

Religion creates an appealing narrative, promising that life does not truly end with death. It assures us that there is more to our existence—that there is a higher purpose, a divine plan, and a promise of everlasting life beyond the grave. But is this belief in an afterlife simply a comforting story we cling to in order to make life more bearable?

The comparison between humans and the natural world offers an interesting perspective. We share about 60% of our DNA with bananas and about 98% with chimpanzees. These shared biological blueprints suggest that we are not as distinct as we often like to believe. Despite our advanced intellect, technology, and culture, we are bound by the same natural laws as every other living organism. We come into the world, grow, reproduce, and die—just like everything else. The biological similarities we share with other species make it difficult to deny the cold reality that we, too, are bound by the cycle of life and death.

Religion, however, offers a reprieve from this truth. It allows us to imagine that there is more to our existence than simply being born, living, and dying. But this comforting illusion may also prevent us from fully confronting the realities of life and death. Instead of grappling with the finality of death, religion invites us to believe in a continuation of life beyond the grave—a belief that can ease the existential dread that often accompanies our awareness of mortality.

Yet, when we step back and take a critical look, it becomes clear that even the most deeply held beliefs are often rooted in a need for comfort. The concept of an afterlife allows us to sidestep the painful reality of death. But what if there is no grand continuation? What if the end is just that—an end? No second chances, no eternal reward or punishment, just the cessation of life as we know it.

The futility of life becomes even more apparent when we consider the nature of the universe. Human life, for all its complexity and meaning, is but a speck in the grand scheme of things. The universe existed long before we arrived and will continue long after we are gone. Our personal struggles, triumphs, and failures are insignificant in the face of this vast, indifferent cosmos.

And yet, we continue to search for meaning. We build empires, create art, fall in love, and strive for success, knowing that, in the end, death will render it all obsolete. It is this human tendency to seek meaning in the face of futility that makes life both beautiful and tragic. We are aware of our mortality, yet we push forward, attempting to create something lasting, something that will outlive us.

Ultimately, religion serves as a salve for the wound that death inflicts on the human psyche. It offers us the illusion that there is more to life, that our actions have eternal consequences, and that we will be remembered long after we are gone. But perhaps, rather than clinging to this comforting narrative, we should embrace the fleeting nature of life. Perhaps the true beauty of life lies not in its permanence but in its impermanence.

Death, in its finality, strips away the illusions we create about life. It reminds us that, at our core, we are no different from the animals or plants that surround us. We share the same DNA, the same biological processes, and ultimately, the same fate. We are born, we live, and then we die. What we do with the time in between is up to us, but in the end, none of it will matter.

The futility of life, when viewed through the lens of death, can be a sobering realization. But it can also be liberating. Knowing that nothing is permanent, we are free to live fully in the moment. We are free to create, love, and experience life without the burden of expectation or the illusion of eternity. Life is not about what comes after death—it’s about what we do before it arrives.

The question remains: will we continue to cling to the comforting illusions offered by religion, or will we embrace the truth of life’s fleeting nature? In the end, death ends everything. What we have left is the life we’ve lived, and it is up to us to make it meaningful, not in the hope of eternal reward, but in the simple and profound act of living.