Nietzche’s Eternal Recurrence

Nietzsche's concept of Eternal Recurrence posits that if one has lived a good life, he or she would want to live it over again.  In my mind, wanting to live life over again doesn't necessarily mean one has lived it well.  Neither does it mean that not wanting to equates with having lived a bad one.  There are things that happen to a person which they have no control over.  Living a good life is more about adjusting positively to negative influences and not about always making the right decisions, as Nietzsche seems to be assuming.  Bad choices are necessary to make better ones; without them we don't learn anything.  Regardless, the quality of one's life can't be judged by their personal choices alone. 

In my case, I think I have generally made good choices in life, but I would not want to live it over again due to several circumstances which were beyond my control (family life, social pressures, etc). 

I'd be willing to bet there are people out there who have led bad lives that would want to live them over again, and other people who have led good lives that wouldn't.  A person living a good life likely believes in progress, and if he or she was forced to live their life over again, no progress could be made in the next one.  It's only in a next life that they can become better souls, therefore no progress would have been made between lives.  Likewise, someone who led a bad life might want to live it over again, because they aren't interested in changing themselves for the better.  He or she likely experienced many pleasures at the expense of others or got incredibly lucky by being dealt a wealthy hand.  Then again, they may not even be conscious they have led bad lives.  As such, they would consider their lives "good" and want to live them over again. 

Due to these different contexts, I think the question really depends on the person you're asking.  Such a generalization as Nietzche's can't be taken at face value because there are many subjective ideas about life that we don't all agree on. 

Synchronicity

A vibration rises from the base of my spine, 
Spiraling heavenward vortexes of energy, 
Where chakras burn like the aortas of stars 
Shimmering through arterial nebula, a chorus of creation. 
It engulfs my stomach, my navel, my heart, 
Bridging the gaps between constricted spaces, 
The geometries which designed the tree of life. 
Slowly it moves up my neck, through my mouth 
Into the temple of thought, where the third eye 
Illuminates the crown of enlightenment, connecting 
Each node in sequence on a spiritual staircase. 
 
This is where space is infinite, time is lost, 
Details become whole, memories merge  
Into an ocean of stories.   

Every story becomes an ethical wheel,  

Churning each virtue that opens the eyes 
Upon pastoral scenes of white sands and cyan shores, 
Cities of biomimicry flanking the beaches 
Of a world far removed from our own. 
A distant whisper calls, coming from nowhere, 
Smooth as the aerial wind of a wispy dream. 
Such visions are lost among scientists, 
Who scour the Earth searching for answers, 
When the only answer they need is right before them. 
 
Now I let go, release my thoughts into silence, 
Shed my body of its rigid skin, expose my innards 
To the stormy forces of the world, losing all hope and reason, 

Retaining no sense of self, 
Boundless, weightless, floating in a cavity of ideas, 
Of dreams unearthed from the unconscious, 

Of archetypal images 
Rolling through the screen upon which inner reflection 
Projects every secret of God, supremely alive, 
Wholly enraptured, blinded by appearances yet fully aware. 

Genome: the Autobiography of a Species in 23 Chapters, Matt Ridley

    Matt Ridley does an excellent job telling the story of our Genome by selecting one characteristic from each chromosome and exploring in depth what it may imply about our genes. Granted this was written 17 years ago, but I still managed to gain a lot of insights into the cutting-edge applications of gene therapy. The book serves as a great introduction for those not familiar with the field and would like to take a stab at it. And though I didn't agree with all of his viewpoints, I had to give him credit for providing strong arguments on the positions he held. Some of the more shocking chapters, such as the "battle of the sexes" between genes and the history of eugenics, are things that really stand out in my mind, elevating this book from being a simple outline stuck in its time, to a classic of scientific writing. 

The Lost Boy

That house, that house, 
I remember it so well, 
A newly constructed castle 
Lying in the heart of suburbia. 
It was big, it was clean, 
It held a happy family, 
At least in the beginning. 
It was surrounded by others, similarly looking, 
That all had gardens and trees 
And the greenest lawns we'd ever seen. 
The future was bright for us children 
Who grew up in the shelter of its rooms, 
Playing games and keeping safe from the real world. 
 
That house, that house, 
I ran through it with glee, so long ago. 
It watched over my brother and I, 
My busy mom, and the man 
Who would come to own it for himself. 
I remember that man, my brother's father, 
Who cared for me like I was his own, 
Yet scared me in ways that distanced him. 
So long ago, my family and that house, 
Together we all were, yes, when things were simpler. 
That house could never quite contain the joy 
Overflowing from its walls, 

It only kept the fear inside. 
When it was finally exhausted the walls closed in, 
Squeezing out all the mirth and love 
We'd taken for granted. 
 
That house, that house. 
I went back to visit it the other day. 
I lay in the grass, like I did as a child, 
With the bugs and the tiny polished rocks, 
Near the humble door on the porch painted white, 
Still looking as it had twenty years ago, 
When all was new in our playground of purity. 
I waved at a friendly neighbor, who asked if I knew the man, 
The one who lived here many years ago. 
I nodded without saying a word, knowing in my heart 
He would get the meaning, that I'd known the man, 
The one who raised me, before I got lost in the real world, 
A place the house never quite fit in with either. 
I felt its aura consume me, showing me I wasn't alone, 
That it was lost in the past too, unoccupied and empty, 
Glanced over like the boy who lived here, so long ago.