My view of life:

Now, now how do I start this lightly.

Humans are animals just like every other animal. The only noticeable difference between us and the rest of the animals is our large brains. What do all animals have in common? They pursue selfish goals. Selfish goals to simply accomplish one concept. Surviving long enough to replicate and making sure that their genes pass on. Well, that’s the underlying biological reason for the selfish actions that human beings perform as a base of their everyday lives. We are selfish and cruel to everyone but our peers. We may not kill because we happened to have evolved to a stage where our brains recognise that coexisting with the rest of the human beings that we don’t really care about or like, is beneficial to our egotistical lives.

There’s nothing higher than me and my life is substantially of a greater worth than everyone else’s. That’s how everyone sees it. I serve no greater purpose to the universe. I exist because I exist and I had no choice in the matter. I am here because of random chance that out of billion of other probabilities resulted in me, as it resulted to you and as it resulted to every other person on the planet. Your life is sacred because I consider my life sacred too. But my life is more sacred than yours.

All that I am and all that I currently express exists just because I have a brain with an accumulation of nerves fired in the right order due to my so far experiences. What I am is lost once my brain is gone. There’s no magic in who I am, rather than a sequence of events that given a chance to occur again in a similar manner in a similar setting with similar people at the same time and temperature with the same genetic makeup and phenotype would result in the same me. It’s not magic it’s just a mathematical probability that’s unlikely but not completely improbable to occur again. The answer is close to zero but not exactly zero.

I am unique though because of that great improbability and as such I act as though I am the only one of my species. I am the only one that can understand me and sometimes can’t. Like you are the only one that really knows what’s happening inside your head.

The world exists only because I exist. It would be stupid of me to say that the world will not continue if I disappeared tomorrow, because it would. But for me that would be of no worth or meaning.

I am not sure everyone listens to the same sound or sees the same colours when they are reproduced inside the brain, because there should certainly be variations of it. But we can’t objectively discover what those differences are or ever find out.

What’s the mystery of life?

The only mystery for me is how intelligent people can’t see the purposelessness of it all and the uselessness of their actions. It is hard for me to understand how I can still grasp concepts of love and experience feelings that have no logic to back them up. I find it weird that I want to have a family when deep down I know that who I am is going to be lost forever and even though logically I am all that should matter for me, for my world, I have a tendency to seek human attention, affection and have goals oriented towards achieving that attention and affection as well as pursue having a family one day. I actually find it a hard reality to live in now. I feel that too many people are intelligent enough and smart enough to see that in the long term nothing really matters. People like that are predestined to sadness and sorrow in their lives just because they can see more than we as animals should be capable of seeing at this point in time.

The real mystery of life is why do people keep on living and waking up the next day when they know what their end result would be. Why do people care what happens in their reality as that reality along with the entire existence of the world is going to go after them.

As an ape I know why I need to reproduce and start a family and protect that family. As a conscious human being I see it as useless. It’s all temporary, it’s all sad and fragile. Just like we are. Incomplete, incompetent to fix ourselves and bound by a faith that was not of our choosing. That’s why we fight so hard to have control when we never really have control.

And I find it so hard to find magic in all this. You know some spice to make this life taste better or smell better.

I guess the only magic lies in the contradiction. Life or no life? Feel or think? Try to fix it or just let it be?

But in the end. I guess it doesn’t really matter where the magic hides, does it?