„Life is life.“ Means: the meaning of life is life itself. Or: The meaning of being is being itself.
What does that mean? For one person it means complete loneliness. No goal there is. Nothing to achieve. Everything falls back on itself. Always up to your neck in shit. The loneliness. The suffering. That’s all there is. The conclusion is clear: if life is the meaning and there is nothing more, then I take what I can. For myself and without consideration. Then I can do anything, because: Life is, after all, its own meaning. So everything I do is in this sense. There is nothing outside this horrible wasteland that will end with my death, the meaning of which I cannot recognise. So there is only me and only now and my coming death is the death of everything. What consideration should I have for fellow human beings, animals, plants, the environment, the earth? All of them are already dead and there is nothing but him. Death is the meaning. So I suppress it, become insane and cram everything into this short time without regard for anything. Everything is already dead anyway. This is the perception of man in his materialistic half-ness.
The whole human being recognises something else: everything is one. Life is life. Meaning is in everything, in every breath. Everything is one. The space, the time. Everything is now. There is nothing to do. There is only to accept everything and to recognise it in its oneness. If I recognise the unity and the meaning of this one everything, then I am in permanent love for this one everything, which shows itself in fellow human beings, animals, plants, the environment, the earth, the whole of creation. Then I am free and secure and in bliss. For if the meaning is only the one, then it is also in death. And death is part of life. No fear need I have, for all is preserved in infinite security… To surrender myself to bliss, that is all that is required of me.
As long as humanity remains entangled in materialism, it can preserve neither itself nor the earth… Its half-life forces it into an existence of desolation, for there is only meaningless death for it. In this repressed perception it will rage insanely until everything will perish with it.