A friend asks:
"I think most of my friends are atheist or agnostic and in any case don't believe in the supernatural. So what do you think about the existential concerns of this mortal life?
Meaninglessness, freedom, existential isolation, and death.
Does the inevitability of death render life meaningless? Does the fact that every living creature on earth dies alone fill you with dread? Is this why everyone is so obsessed with life extension?"
As far as I can tell, the universe is a vast, uncaring, clockwork loom that somehow got wound up millennia ago, and is slowly winding down. And as it winds down, it weaves a nearly infinite tapestry of interleaving streams of energy together to form the stars, planets, and life itself.
All of human existence is a small scene in this tapestry, and my life is an infinitesimal thread in that scene.
I've been incredibly lucky that my thread is woven into one of the brighter, gentler scenes, at least to date. Many threads are woven into darker scenes--hellscapes filled with pain and suffering.
There is no demonic weaver though. Heaven or hell, it's all the result of blind, implacable processes set in motion at the birth of the universe.
Humans do seem to have evolved some self-guiding capability though. Perhaps this is an illusion, and I can no more choose than a robot can choose. But, internally at least, I feel like I can make decisions.
So I choose to live. I choose to act according to my moral system. I choose to play, and fight, and love.
Do my choices have any greater meaning? Probably not. But maybe I can make my patch of the tapestry a little brighter. Maybe I can reduce the suffering of the threads around me a little bit. Or increase their joy. Though my choices may not mean anything to anyone else, they have meaning to _me_, and that is enough for me.
"I think most of my friends are atheist or agnostic and in any case don't believe in the supernatural. So what do you think about the existential concerns of this mortal life?
Meaninglessness, freedom, existential isolation, and death.
Does the inevitability of death render life meaningless? Does the fact that every living creature on earth dies alone fill you with dread? Is this why everyone is so obsessed with life extension?"
As far as I can tell, the universe is a vast, uncaring, clockwork loom that somehow got wound up millennia ago, and is slowly winding down. And as it winds down, it weaves a nearly infinite tapestry of interleaving streams of energy together to form the stars, planets, and life itself.
All of human existence is a small scene in this tapestry, and my life is an infinitesimal thread in that scene.
I've been incredibly lucky that my thread is woven into one of the brighter, gentler scenes, at least to date. Many threads are woven into darker scenes--hellscapes filled with pain and suffering.
There is no demonic weaver though. Heaven or hell, it's all the result of blind, implacable processes set in motion at the birth of the universe.
Humans do seem to have evolved some self-guiding capability though. Perhaps this is an illusion, and I can no more choose than a robot can choose. But, internally at least, I feel like I can make decisions.
So I choose to live. I choose to act according to my moral system. I choose to play, and fight, and love.
Do my choices have any greater meaning? Probably not. But maybe I can make my patch of the tapestry a little brighter. Maybe I can reduce the suffering of the threads around me a little bit. Or increase their joy. Though my choices may not mean anything to anyone else, they have meaning to _me_, and that is enough for me.