On Suffering

It took me a long time to realize that the struggle with nihilism should really be the struggle against nihilism.

Once I believed that the world is devoid of meaning and that our existence as humans is random and arbitrary, it seemed impossible to go back to any previous state of consciousness.

Yet, amid all of the randomness, I continue to learn. I evolve into different understandings and versions of myself. But for what?

I guess if I could chalk it all up to one thing, it’s the narratives. Narratives I tell myself. Narratives I tell others. Narratives others tell me. Narratives I read. Narratives I think.

This constant quest for meaning halts the moment one succumbs to all-consuming nihilism. I think the narratives made me realize that. And while I still believe our existence is a constant realization of the randomness and battle against the suffering, that doesn’t rob human life of it’s meaning.

I didn’t choose existence. Humans have dealt with the predicament of existence for 200,000 years. The inevitability of suffering will hang over our heads until the last of our species perish. Your parents suffered and you will suffer and I will suffer and your children will suffer. But I don’t think this sentences us to a life devoid of meaning. We must construct meaning for ourselves with the narratives we tell.

But in order to find meaning in this world, we’ve got to be honest about this world.