Ah, Ha, Ha, Ha, Stayin’ Alive

It’s so boring, isn’t it? It’s just… staying.

Do  you get tired of the repetition? You work so you can eat, sleep so you can work, again and again, day after day. You might have your little projects or distractions, but of course that’s not what you’re living for. You might have family or loved ones, but they’re doing the exact same thing. Can one meaningless life bring meaning to another?

I guess the question is really obvious: “What it’s all for?” I’m sure you have your own answer, whether it’s religious, humanist, or otherwise. I have a couple answers myself, but each leads to a new question.

If we’re here to serve God’s higher purpose, what is it exactly? What will He or She do when It’s done? And what indeed is the meaning of God’s life? Does God wonder these things?

And if we’re here to make the best of our lives and make life easier for others, what’s the endgame there? It’s completely impossible to maintain happiness across a wide population. I’m all for making the world a better place, but hey, it’s only here until the sun expands.

Even if we’re the product of the wild imaginings of a blind mad god, playthings in the pseudopods of  the Great Old Ones, the question persists. Even if we’re wild accidents of happenstance, there’s got to be more to it than mere continuation of our meager lives. I will not accept any less.

I’ve always been one of those kids who will keep asking ‘why,’ never taking ‘because’ for an answer.

It’s another thing that might be a profoundly modern problem. We have money, we have stuff, we have families and governments. So we have time on our hands. This time was built on the backs of ancestors, who could not spare the moment it takes to wonder why they lived. They only wanted to keep living. Then, survival was the beginning and end, so they worked to build a world that was worth it.

I wonder if there’s something in us that still wants to fight for survival, though it’s already been given to us. We look for adventure and peril in our stories, as though our minds are rebelling against our easy lives. I’m always fascinated by characters who seem to act from boredom more than desperation, since boredom is something I understand quite well.

I don’t know whether it’s sillier to live comfortably while wondering why, or to fight for survival without stopping to think about it. I prefer the life of questions, where my threats are not sabre-toothed tigers but ennui and melancholy. I like that I get to wonder if my job is ‘fulfilling’ and what my purpose might be.

But still I dream of other worlds and times, where the constant threat of dragons or disease occupies me only with surviving and ensuring my family’s survival. Every morning I wake is a gift, and if, in a slow moment, I stop to wonder what life means, those thoughts are quickly driven away by the fact that my fields are aflame.
I do not know if I am happier in these dreams, but I know I am never sad.


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