Purpose

In my opinion, what sets human beings apart from other species is the part of us that seeks purpose or meaning in life. Perhaps purpose or meaning is merely a product of our imagination, but, that is neither here nor there as our perceptions become our reality. This sense of attempting to comprehend can certainly lead to arrogance and, as we have seen, give us the false sense that we are above and apart from all the things that make up our world. It is inevitable that we create our own order in order to gleam a sense of sanity. Oftentimes, however, I find this order causes us to wish that all things can establish themselves in the relative borders of black and white. We attempt to compartmentalise people and seek a justification for those things that come to pass: karma, god, natural consequence, bad luck, etc. This is not to deny cause and effect - I am not referring to the fact that if you hit your thumb with a hammer that pain will be the result. I am speaking more to the complexity of the individual; our expectations of our selves and others - the "why" of relationships. It often feels as though we wish people to be of a prescribed predictability, while, in our works of fiction set in novels, movies, etc., we seek a greater complexity of the characters. I must confess that I frequently look to fiction - perhaps more often than in my own life - for greater meanings and purpose, coming away with a mix of great satisfaction and savage disappointment. I'll read more about the heroics of others, feeling that my own pursuits pale in significance when held up to such dazzling lights and luminaries. This is a sad thing.

I am trying to live more mindfully and acknowledge the gremlin in our psyche that causes us to look to the grandeur of the sky at the expense of that which is at our feet. Accepting things as they are, as opposed to what they "should" be. Having the wisdom to discern between the imagination of fiction and the incredibleness of that which presently is. When you contrast a beautiful piece of music or well written novel to the infinity that is the universe, we can see the wonder of this one fragment, but must realise that it is a minuscule speck of the greater whole. Everything is magic. The nature of the universe is also chaos; indifferent and limitless. Such a beautiful thing, of which we are a part, and, in which, we may mould our own experiences; there is no failure. Perhaps, this would thus preclude that there is no purpose or meaning - a difficult and discouraging thought. But why dwell on definitions? On compartmentalising and seeking that order? Surely, we have seen as people try to define "god" that such definitions immediately limit that which would be limitless and attempts to comprehend that which is not possible to comprehend. We are what we are. That is all there is. Be happy, for that is all that truly makes sense and regulates our actions.