Everything’s connected, right? Everything’s connected

And it’s weird, the way I see it right now, it’s so strong
I’d never be the person I’d become if you would have never gone
Everything’s connected, right? Everything’s connected
And even if I can’t read it right, everything’s a message
We die so the others can be born
We age so the others can be young
The point of life is live, love
If you can, then pass it on, right?
We die so the others can be born
We age so the others can be young
The point of life is live, love
If you can, then pass it on

There is only a single, urgent task: to attach oneself someplace to nature, to that which is strong, striving and bright with unreserved readiness, and then to move forward in one’s efforts without any calculation or guile, even when engaged in the most trivial and mundane activities. Each time we thus reach out with joy, each time we cast our view toward distances that have not yet been touched, we transform not only the present moment and the one following but also alter the past within us, weave it into the pattern of our existence, and dissolve the foreign body of pain whose exact composition we ultimately do not know.

Rilke, R. M. (2007). Letters on Life: New Prose Translations. Modern Library. Loc 673