What Are We Doing Here?
What am I doing with my life?
Is this all?
Why am I here?
You and I, we have a purpose. EVERYTHING has a purpose. This entire universe is a well coordinated orchestra. Every instrument, every canon, every melodic composition of its vastness is directed harmonically.
It’s a self-sustained system of cause and effect, risk and reward, trial and error, yin and yang.
What’s our role in it?
The quest — the desire — to understand is mysteriously engrained in our DNA. From the moment we see the first ray of light, we ask questions. What is this? Why is it doing that? How does it do it? Where does it come from?
The thirst for knowledge in those early years is so tangible. We know that in order to grow, we must ask questions and learn how to navigate the world on our own. It’s an innate quest. It’s nourishment.
Then, something peculiar happens along the way: the questions seize.
Asking questions becomes irritating. The person asking the questions becomes an imbecile. The novelty of inquisition wears off. Our enthusiasm and curiosity grows old.
The twinkle in our eyes , the lust in our hearts, to understand the world around us vanishes in the everyday schlepp of it all.
Why did we stop asking questions?
— The Hedonic Treadmill —
Three years ago, when I was diagnosed with cancer, I had every reason to put my life on hold and ask questions.
Why me?
Am I done my job here?
Is this it?
Am I ready to leave this planet?
I had put so much pressure on myself to get to where I was in my career. My biggest ambition in life was to become a manager by the time I’m 25 and I worked really hard to get there.
At the age of 22, I was offered a position as Program Director. I remember the excitement of it all. I took the elevator to the third floor of the office building with my best friend. We knew this floor well. It was our stomping ground after work — the gym. In all seriousness we got out of the elevator and I screamed, “I GOT THE JOB! I’M GOING TO BE A FUCKING DIRECTOR!”
Soon after, a nervous breakdown ensued.
I was exhausted. It felt like I was inside a video game that had a very simple plot: run on the treadmill, collect rewards along the way, but don’t stop or you will die.
There are three categories of reward in this game, it read on the instructions: money, materialist possessions, and status. If you run hard enough, you can accumulate great fortunes and power, it promised with allurement.
I played by the rules and death still caught up to me. Why?
Five months after the nervous breakdown, I found myself in the hospital getting a bone marrow biopsy to investigate if the cancer in my lymphatic system had morphed into a full blown leukemia.
I collapsed. I got so caught up running on this infinite treadmill. I didn’t realize that there was no finish line.
Hedonic Treadmill: “The tendency of a person to remain at a relatively stable level of happiness [or unhappiness] despite a change in fortune or the achievement of major goals. According to the hedonic treadmill, as a person makes more money, expectations and desires rise in tandem, which results in no permanent gain in happiness.”
I suppose I missed the fine print of it all:
Make sure that the rewards you reap act as fuel for your body and soul.
I didn’t question the motivation behind my goals. The rewards of achievement caused a temporary satisfaction inside my mind, but left behind an even greater sense of emptiness. I was drained. There was no meaning to my life. All I did was wake, eat, go to work, eat, work more, drink, and go to sleep.
If only I had asked questions along the way. Now I ask you:
What are you doing here?
Do you feel fulfilled?
If you died tomorrow, could you say that your life was worthwhile?
What are we doing here?
Please watch this incredible video of Alexander Tsiaras who shares a powerful medical visualization of human development from conception to birth and beyond.
All of this magic to create beings that have no purpose? I find that hard to believe.
So, what are we doing here?
