Life is precious. Every organism, from human to microbe, self-arranges so it can energize itself, repair itself, avoid danger, resist nonexistence. A tomato plant defies death by staying alive and then by living beyond itself through its seeds. Life must be precious, for living is what organisms do at almost any price. Love, rooted in biology, intensifies and beautifies friendship and community. The atoms of bodies were born in stars and now we search their planets for signs of life. A cancer survivor I know travels to the ocean shore each year to celebrate her life.

Life is cheap. The number of organisms on the planet is beyond counting. Look beyond our nose to all the bacteria, green and not-green plants of every size, sea creatures, animals crawling, flying, and walking––living things are run-of-the-mill. Every body is vulnerable, dependent on the right heat, light, and water, built from the elements, prone to breakage. Big fish eat little fish, and animals eat big fish, little fish, and plants. Fear, hunger, illness, injury, and fatigue cramp our days.  Love, prompted by biology, spurs us to protect offspring for a little while. The atoms of our bodies are almost entirely empty space; we are mostly vacuum. A healthy, fortunate man I know asked me last week, “Is this all there is?”

Lives are precious and cheap, one-of-a-kind and a dime a dozen, self-perpetuating and ephemeral.