I have become a total slacker lately. …Which is inconvenient, in a way. Of course, it has also given me a lot of time to think. …Which unfailingly leads to:
What is the purpose of life? Why are we sentient? What else is sentient? Are we truly conscious, or do we just think we are? Isn’t that the same thing? Why/how can we pontificate about these things? Is there something else out there? Is there a point to life? Some part of something bigger? Some over-arching ideal?
Or is this all we have? Is it enough? Why waste time, wasting time? A friend of mine once spent many hours playing video games–till the sun went down. Is that what we’re meant for? After weeks of that, he was depressed. Are we simply the sum of our experiences? How do we know? What are we supposed to do with our time? Does it matter?
Is watching movies a worthwhile use of time? Is exploring in the woods? Writing? Reading? Anything? Doesn’t it vary among people? Why do I question everything? Is that a waste of time? Or is it kind of the point?
I’m not thrilled at the idea of being locked in an existential mind-trap. …In fact, I kind of find that to be self-serving navel-gazing, and it frustrates me. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t spend so much time thinking about these kinds of thoughts–perhaps “pondering” is a better term, as that implies–to me, anyway–a plodding kind of feel. That seems rather more accurate to these kinds of mental circles. However, mostly, I am just glad in an odd sort of way, that I can think about these things. One of the things I seem to be best at is running around in my own head. It just seems as if there should be answers somewhere. Right?
Mostly, I’m just glad to be living in this place and at this time. It gives me a warm, happy feeling inside. 🙂