It’s estimated that the total number of people ever born is over 100 billion. Many of which probably died at infancy or during early childhood. Many of which were born into extreme poverty, disease, abuse, war, and slavery. And this doesn’t even include the number of human lives that have been aborted or miscarried.
The total number of human life is likely well into the hundreds of billions and most of them likely never saw the light of day, died at an early age, or lived in extremely difficult conditions.
Historically, most people have not lived the type of life that we in modern industrialized economies would consider “normal.” We are the minority, you and I. We are living extraordinary lives.
This seemingly natural inequality of human existence should tell us something about the meaning of life. It should tell us one of two things: either that life itself is meaningless or that life on earth is not the whole story.
My feeling is that we are all part of something much bigger than ourselves. If we are still alive and aware in this moment, it’s for a reason. A story is being told and we are part of it, all of us, from the miscarried child to the oldest person who ever lived.
I guess in this sense we’re all part of something extraordinary.