I
think life happens. That it’s about
survival. That there is no
inherent ‘meaning’ save the absolutely mind blowing magnificence and the
reality of survival and challenges and luscious moments and death.
Silver spoons obscure this, and we forget.
If by
chance or hard work we are buffered from the perilous edge of survival, we
forget quickly that wildlife isn’t ever hanging out. It’s finding food, and
then not becoming food. Humans all over the world are seriously bent upon
having food to stay alive. After that, shelter, safety.
If there’s juice left over after survival,
we and many other species tend to begin to use our time as we listen to urges..
We learn to care. As we find the time and space for exploration. Creativity.
Creations.
I’ve spent my entire life wondering
at being here. Not exactly looking for a ‘reason’, but still, seeing it
there, the existence, and walking with both the experience and the concept.
And now at this age, being inside of
it. Being
present. Learning to let the past and future go, unless there is conscious
intent.
Really pares things down. The moment.
The conceptual philosophical stuff
becomes just so much silly expository trash. It becomes a useless intellectual exercise in
navel gazing.
The useful stuff is in how we spend
the time that we have.
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