It from bit. That’s an idiom coined by an old (super smart and now super dead) physicist named John Archibald Wheeler. He coined it when thinking lofty thoughts on the nature of the universe which are significantly more nuanced and grand than what I’m about to spout out, but I think about this nearly every day now.
It (meaning my life) comes from each decision I make; and each decision is a bit—a one or a zero, a choice, an event. Sometimes these decisions are made for me. Sometimes I make them. Sometimes I think about them before I make them, too—or at least that’s what I tell myself.
For instance, a lumpy mattress and my infrequent insomnia woke me up at 4:30 a.m.—nature’s decision, I guess. Rather than going back to bed, I got up and made some coffee—my decision. But at lunch today, I bought a cookie that I absolutely knew I could not finish. Was that my choice, or was that a result of my addictive personality which struggles with sugar (and other fun things sometimes)?
All these tiny bits that make up my day will suddenly make up all the tiny bits of my life. And then poof, one day there’ll be no more bits of me left. Isn’t that a weird thought?