WHY?

I've seen a lot of posts lately about the meaning of life; the reasons for death. Mankind has wondered about his place in the universal scheme, his purpose for being, since the first time a caveman truly realized his existence was finite.... destined to end. All things are finite. Every tree eventually withers and dies. Even mountains crumble to dust over the eons. The very universe itself will eventually contract onto itself in order to make room for something new.

Why am I here? What is my purpose? Why do I have to die? Isn't there more to life than this? Fear of the unknown; fear of death; wondering at the reasons..., all are normal. Everyone has these questions. Mankind has been inventing religions - inventing God in various images - for many millennia for the purpose of trying to answer these questions.

Bear in mind, without death there is no room for new life. Death allows for renewal, rebirth; a cycling of the universe towards whatever unimaginable goal it seeks to attain. Whatever purpose some unknowable creator assigned it billions of years ago, long before our tiny race came into existence. We, as a race, are but a tiny mote of dust when placed on a universal scale. There are hundreds of billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars with planets and systems... Does mankind have a true purpose in the grand scheme? I'd like to think so. Does my own personal existence as a self aware, intelligent being have a reason beyond merely striving to survive as long as possible? I sincerely hope so.

Buddhism, Confucianism, Islam, Christianity, Wicca, Hinduism, and a plethora of other faiths all purport to have some knowledge of the reasons/purpose. Maybe, at the core, they all do. Maybe none do. Maybe they only exist to comfort us in the night as we stare at the stars and wonder at the vastness of eternity. I don't know. But, I do know that the answer will be found for me when that final house guest knocks on my door. Or not. Either way, I find it better to strive to enrich my life with love and joy while I have it rather than to spend my days crying over the fact that they will eventually come to an end.

To know my reason for being I have but to look at the smile of a child. Look into the eyes of my own children. When I feel bleak over the vagaries of life, I pull myself back. When my soul cries over the injustice of humanity, I focus on the person who gives selflessly of himself to help others, even when he can barely afford to do so or can expect no earthly reward. We can but strive to lend each other a hand when needed. Offer a shoulder to cry on. To laugh at our friend's bad jokes. To support each other from day to day until the final answers are forthcoming.

I have decided that my life's purpose, as I wait for the inevitable, is to strive for harmony; to help and comfort those I can; to try to leave this little ball of mud slightly better than when I entered.