What’s the point?
“Why am I here?”, still remains as one of those poignant questions which plague the minds of mankind. Depending on what one holds in highest regard, plenty disciplines and school of thoughts are ever competing to aptly answer such probing, all in hope of gaining one’s subscription. Religion, science, philosophy, work and the like, offer us their answers as the point of this life. In many respects, mankind’s innate desire to want to know the answer to that question has become a case of a merchandise to the gullible but profit to the deceiving. As long as there is a product that can be sold, there will never be a shortage of a market for it. And as is said, “If you cannot identify what the product is, you are the product.” That, always makes me ponder if we are really aware of why we do the things we do.
Many times I have asked myself if animals have life goals. Like, do they live their present in anticipation of a certain future? And if so, how do they conjure up such a framework and who even notified them that they need one and that it is a beneficial way of existence? Yet I’m almost always stopped in my thinking spree by the rude awakening that I for one haven’t even crystallized those questions for myself.
Life is complex. Any and by whomever offering that it isn’t, is simply a hoax and at most, a simplistic and cowardice way of living. What is the point of being a good person? What is the point of survival? What is the point of Neptune? What is the point of words and stories? After you have done all that you can to be better in this life (whatever that means), what is the point of it all?
I’m just throwing questions that I’m still grappling with for answers. My point: there is more to the answers we think we know to the questions that satiate us. We ought to be careful, for at times any [form of an] answer is better than nothing. And therein lies deceit.
I don’t know the point of this life, but quitting to look for it, is worse.