What is the purpose of life?
Why do we live and then die?
Do we live to make heaps of money and to spend it on ourselves and our families buying comfort and luxury?
Or are we supposed to ditch all the riches of the world and try to do something for the unfortunate and dying majority?
We begin to think more about our existence in this world as we begin to come closer to the realities, as we grow up so to speak. When the vagaries of the world begin to attack us systematically, one by one. We begin to question our mortality when we see death for the first time, and the closer the person is to us the greater the stress on our highly evolved brains to figure out the ‘whys’ of this world. We begin to question the logic that drives us for the whole of our lives because it begins difficult to comprehend if the achievements and the gains were worth all this trouble of living. We can very much argue that people who leave a ‘mark’ on this world and who do something to ‘better’ the lives of others achieve something substantial and thus upon their passing away their life seems fulfilled. But that is not the case with majority of the world’s population, everyone does not seem to have that grand a target nor is everyone capable of achieving some great feat. So what is it that the common man lives for? Is his goal just as simple as helping the ‘greater’ individuals achieve their great feats? But doesn’t it all seem pointless? We have been taught from the beginning that the people who are in a better position in the society should help the not so lucky ones. But all the demarcations have been created by society and civilizations over the years. We ourselves have created money and the whole concept of classes within the society. We ourselves have created many diseases and also cured many. What about humans thousands of years ago? They had no classes and no money.
The first civilization, try to imagine the very first group of individuals, say in Africa, who realized the power of their minds and did something other than hunting and eating. We were like every other animal whose main aim was survival and procreation. But then we discovered fire and invented the wheel and started walking on two feet. What did it all mean in a context of things in which we try to find meaning of life? Maybe we weren’t meant to be anything more than four limbed mammals who eat, breed and die. When the first of our species discovered fire, the very first question of our civilization entered the mind of its discoverer; WHY?, and poof!, someone put two and two together and invented cooking. From there on it has been a never ending quest for the very same question that keeps on taking us farther and farther but never close to answering the why of our existence.
Maybe there is nothing more to us than what meets the eye. There is no greater purpose to life than to live itself. There are no higher aspiration that you have to reach than your own. There is no path in the universe waiting for you to be tread. There is definitely no plan for all of us. What it is and always will be is what we make of it. Life is purely what we want it to be. We really are our own masters. There are those of us who cannot fathom this idea, it seems such a deep and dark tunnel that they may get lost, so the whole concept of ‘a greater purpose and goodness beyond this world’ exists, so that they can keep their sanity. The quest for WHY is almost like a religion in itself, and like all religions it exists solely to give direction to those who are easily misled. Life really is like ‘The Matrix’, the only difference is that the sentinels, the agents and the programmers are themselves made of flesh and blood; the rest are just being ‘juiced’ by them. Probably the answer to life, the universe and everything really is 42.