What the Hell are We doing Here?

Why are we here? How did we get here? What is our purpose, if any? Is the earth round, flat, or pear-shaped . . . and what difference does it make? Questions we all think about at some point. I have always questioned things that didn't make sense. In pursuit of answers I've only been met with more questions. It seems there are no clear answers, only theories, opinions and conjecture. There is a multitude of conspiracy theories alluding to lies and cover-ups about the true nature of our reality. Trying to sift through all the information and sort out what is science and what is fiction will leave your head spinning faster than this purported spinning ball we live on.

Does life have to have meaning . . . Isn't it enough just being alive? It should be, but as I go through my daily routine at some point during the day the question always pops into my head. Like when I'm doing dishes, or cleaning the toilet, I'll think how mundane and monotonous it all seems. I can't fathom that we were created and put here just to perform daily chores . . . although these things are necessary do they define who we are?

I try to find meaning in the everydayness. Life doesn't make any sense though. You're born . . . you do stuff in between . . . and then you die. So, does the stuff you do in between really matter? What is the point of wasting the first thirteen years of life sitting in classroom after classroom memorizing and regurgitating useless facts, then on to higher education to learn more BS, which is supposed to prepare you to live and work in society. You get a soul sucking job so you can afford a roof over your head, food in your stomach and a place to sleep, wake up tomorrow and do it all over again. That is not life, but unfortunately that is where a majority of humanity finds themselves. One day you wake up only to realize you're 65 and your whole life has passed you by. All you have to show for it is a stack of bills, a mortgage and a beater car sitting in the driveway. The kids have grown and moved out. Now you are faced with a lot of empty time to fill. What you thought was your purpose is over and you're left with Who am I? What do I do now?.... and all the other identity crisis questions.

I am sure I am not the only one dealing with these issues. It has been the topic of poets, theologians and philosophers alike. Volumes have been written throughout millennia with no two agreeing on the true nature of our reality. Even the Bible leaves you with far more questions than answers? Do we have to wait until we die to know why we we're here and what we we're supposed to accomplish? I should think then would be too late. Some say we come back again and again until we get it right. I think in that case it would be nice to arrive fore-armed with knowledge of who and why we're here.

The never ending quest continues . . .

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