The eternal search for meaning in an existence you have had very little, if any, choice in being involved in is seeming just a little bit silly to me at the moment. I mean, really...no one said “Hello. I’m God. I’ve got a proposition for you. I built this place, you see and I was wondering if you’d like to come down and spend about 87 years – approximately - hanging out there?” That would have been nice. Just to be asked, you know, if it was what you thought would be a good use of your time.
Well, the place is nice on the whole. It’s got trees, well there’s still a few left at least, and there are all these pretty birds that hang out in them. And cats. I love cats. I quite like rivers too and the beach rocks! Mountains are awesome and there are great things like wolves and the moon and boys. But there’s also questions. And difference. Not the interesting kind as in “that’s different....I should try to find out more about that” but the “That’s different...let’s eat it/destroy it/drive it off” kind. And then of course there’s the whole concept of God in the first place. Doesn’t THAT one cause some issues? So in that climate of confusion one is supposed to be searching for one’s own purpose in life.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment