The human life is a story.
The trick to writing a good story is to know your ending. Know how the tale finishes, and write up to it from the beginning.
We already know our beginning. We are born into this life with no reason to live other than existence itself; we are the continuation of a cosmic billiard move. We are the result of life attempting to replicate itself.
There is no apparent purpose in the human being other than to exist, to breathe, to eat, to fuck and to prolong the cycle.
We also know the end. We die. All greatness is reduced to nothing in the end; posterity is a mere vanity, the expression of an attempt to prolong life. It doesn’t work. The human host still dies. Poof. No more.
What, then, is the purpose of purpose? Human life becomes a mere game of whimsy. Six billion toddlers playing in a massive sandbox, each one attempting to build castles out of sand, out of dirt, out of nothing. Toddler minds wrap around this illusion of life, that they are somehow building something when they are essentially building nothing.
But this does not mean that human life is meaningless. No. Far, far, far from it. That something is only temporary makes it more meaningful. A summer fling leaving in fall. An ice sculpture. Cake.
The human experience here is temporary. We have absolutely no idea what came before or what’s coming after. It’s not important. The life unexamined is worth living, perhaps more so - because the game still seems real, the castles are made of stone and mortar, the dirt is wealth and the smiles are forever. The sensations seem real.
The sole reason of life beyond the mere impetus of existence - is the sensation of happiness. That is it. The simple answer is the answer. The human acts on want or need only as a secondary function; it acts firstly on the potential for happiness.
You can say, ‘Not me, no I desire other things.’
Yes, you desire other things that will make you happy. That’s all there is to it. Do you desire to be unhappy? Then that is what makes you happy.
Dreaming, we are all just blissfully, happily dreaming, reading a book, watching a movie, enjoying a play, listening to some animated music, songs and dance with some crying sprinkled on. Just when the play is over, someone replaces us in watching it. Someone picks up the book, reads it anew.
Who knows what’s on the other side when we wake up. Better enjoy the story while it’s still on.
