On the Purpose of Material Existence…
It’s late. I sit outside in the cool morning air, a cigarette warming my mouth and drying my eyes. The wind is wisping through the trees, creating a melody as the leaves snap and flutter. The chorus of our earth. I often sit and wonder what all of this means…
I find the question overwhelming, it sometimes feels irrational to even pose. How could I understand the world? I try to refine the question…to find a starting point that will somehow lead me to the answer, to the thread that once pulled will unravel the great mystery before my eyes. My mind races from the big bang, both cold and material and radiant and divine, and spin endlessly with the curling of the galaxies into their beautiful nebulous shapes. My thoughts bounce from particle to particle as they begin to coalesce and form planets. A blue dot appears before the mind’s eye, a blip on the cosmic scale, and I find myself home on the birth place of this humanity–Earth. I see the entirety of evolution, as simple organism grow into the beastly kings of our world. And man rises from the ashes of this genesis to anoint himself ruler, both benevolent and terrible.
I see it as God’s plan. I see no plan at all. I see the Messiah. And I see no one at all.
I reach for any vestige of beginning…
And right before I seem to find it, I see it all end. The universe is torn apart, ripped limb from limb by the very forces from which it was created. Beautiful clouds of life and marvel collapse upon themselves until what once was is reduced to seemingly nothing. But something still exists; it could almost be called a moment, for nothing that we know of this physical world could compare. It is the tiniest of objects, but within it every ounce of energy and the infinity of time lie dormant, until whether by cold automation or divine direction it explodes, unleashing the gift of life for a new chance, a new hope.
And it all begins again, in a big bang of rebirth.
Is this the first universe? The fifth? The billionth? Where do I fit into this cosmic scale of destruction and resurrection? My life, and the lives of all who have walked this gorgeous blue sphere, may be nothing more than a notch in the belt of miracles that this cycle so flippantly engenders.
As a boy I used to think how fantastic it was that every ancestor of mine met, for their tales of love and lust eventually led to my existence. But now, in search of the great answer, I cannot help but think how infinitesimal that is in comparison to the idea that this may be one of many universes and that, for years I could never count, had to go a certain way for our blue earth to sit upon the black of space for any of this to even have a chance. I find myself lost in the sea of this reality. I find myself completely alone, although the materials that comprise my body may have once been stars or life I couldn’t ever imagine.
Its all so finite. Yet feels so entirely infinite.
I look to God for comfort, for nothing here can quench this thirst for purpose. I believe He exists to facilitate that role. Without the idea of God, how can we possibly cope with the smallness of our lives? Or its utter pointlessness? When the answers allude me, when all rational thought is lost in the expanse of all-time, I find peace in one great power, that for delightful whim or wanton cruelty has created everything before me, everything in me, and everything my dust will become.
Can we escape the end? Not as individuals, but as a people, as species, borne into this particular universe..? Yes, I reach for a vestige of beginning, but all I see is the prospect of an end. Can we escape this fate? Can we escape God’s judgment? For when it is cast, there will be nothingness.
Nothing but that moment. When everything is possible again. When every dream is latent and consciousness is but a soft whisper resonating within the smallest of creations.
I have hope. I think that we will live forever in the forms and shapes of our future. I think within the 3.1 billion character DNA code within us all the past is written. A letter from the million worlds before us, sharing their triumphs and failures. Grand stories of their towers that reached the skies, and their eternal search for an answer. And if we are doomed, the next to inhabit a wayward planet of translucent blue will carry us within them, as we have carried so many that have come before within us.
If I should have one wish, it would be the write my own passage in the genetic structure of their lives. I would tell them to not be afraid, to live for every moment, to believe in a purpose to everything. I would give them the hope I feel for the eternity of the human race through them. And I would simply ask them to remember, if they ever could, this voice which on this night called out to them, to all, and in a sea of loneliness found peace in the way of things.
Call it God. Call it love. Call it whatever you like. We will live on. We will never die. If only for a moment…
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.