I don't really understand the search for a 'meaning to life'. Why do people need to find a meaning, reason, or purpose for all of this. Is it too
much to simply accept that we came from a few chemicals that, through time, bettered themselves to the point where they became self aware and tricked
themselves into thinking they were something more? Is it too disappointing to realize that when you die, nothing happens besides your body's decay
back to the fundamental stuff
that might give a sapling a chance at a few rays of sun before another self-important mixed up bunch of chemicals
come and cut it down?
Before I become flame bait, I must add that I'm not claiming a certainty; I'm not saying I'm right or that anybody else is wrong. As far as I'm
certain, I'm completely uncertain. Though, I've seen no evidence to that fact.
My spiritual evolution started with the acceptance of Christianity. It soon progressed to the realization that Christianity is rubbish and then that
most religions are simply copy cats of some ancient rubbish. So, I started looking farther east but soon lost interest (possibly out of a general sort
of jadedness). Over the years, my spirituality has dwindled from a non-specific "I believe something is out there," to a "I think something
is out there," and finally to "I'd like to think that something
is out there."
While, at this point, I'm completely jaded and hopelessly disappointed (and yet surprisingly comfortable) with the realization that you and I are
nothing and that we will die and rot just like everything else. I for one am looking forward to the rest I'll be getting. Despite all that; the most
important spiritual 'awakening' I've had (and still hold firm to) is that; should I find an answer that differs from what I've asserted, it will
not be shown to me by any person who claims to have discovered a spiritual truth.
I must point out, however, that I don't recommend a glorious path of spiritual self destruction. Since I've arrived at my shining pit of
nothingness, my writings and musical compositions have also seem to have lost all depth and purpose. In fact, all of my artistic ventures seem as
lifeless and as pointless as I feel us all to be. Perhaps there's something to be said for that. Perhaps it's already being said here:
Well, [/end most depressing post ever] [begin new cup of coffee]
[edit on 2-1-2008 by memoir]