Question for the Commentariat.

[silveradept]

Please answer the following two-parter, if you feel comfortable doing so.

(a) Have you successfully resolved the existential crisis of not only mortal life, but the likelihood that you and what you do will be essentially meaningless in the history of the cosmos?

(b) If so, please let me know your solution and its reasons. If not, please let me know where your difficulties are.

I'm still wrestling this one, and I have yet to find an acceptable answer in either religion or philosophy. A TARDIS and/or the ability to see what the post-life experience is like, remember it, return to life, and then evaluate by that standard is about as far as I've gotten for acceptable outcomes. I'm sure there has to be at least one that will click and fill the void of being able to conceptualize oneself in cosmic terms.

Comments

[silveradept]

One time, I tried to sing / about spring, and a storm. But you know... / how it goes...

[rimspace.livejournal.com]

So, perhaps I was too Vorlon...

We occupy a peculiar position in the universe, the gift and curse of self-awareness and mortality that inevitably pushes us to debate the implications of existence. Truly grasping our infinitesimal position in the universe, dragged inexorably and irredeemably along the river of time, seemingly unable to effect the changes we desire... existential uncertainty and distress is virtually inescapable for any sufficiently thoughtful individual.

But consider, if you will, the implications of my questions. I do not claim them to be overly comforting, but they offer part of an answer. We are each here, now, whether the result of the spinning of the Fates, or a nigh-incomprehensible chain of near impossible events. Imagine, for a moment, what it would be like if we were not: perhaps another would be in our place, another raindrop hurtling from cloud to ground, another note in the vast symphony of the universe. Perhaps there would not; and what then, if all were the same?

There would be no storm, there would be no music.

We are, at the same time, infinitely vital, and apparently expendable: another of the wonderful dichotomies that permeates every aspect of existence. But the fact that we are here, the fact that I can write this, and you can read it, compels us to face this most remarkable conundrum: if we exist, we are part of something vast beyond our full comprehension, a tapestry of existence whose very weave is the universe around us. We each have a role, a place, a voice in the music - no matter how tiny, and if removed everything would be changed, even if only imperceptibly. We also live in a chaotic, emergent reality, one where even the tiniest change can have long-term, dramatic ramifications - there is no guarantee that your existence is the flapping of butterfly wings that will create the storm of tomorrow... but, by the same token, it might be. We touch the lives of those around us, making lives better or worse, whether we realise it or not. We are inextricably linked in often surprising and subtle ways, and who we are is as much a product of our interactions as any other factor.

This is the essence of the strange, fleeting thing that is living: we change the world simply by existing, perhaps not the grand sweeping changes of the idealist or fundamentalist, but change none the less. There may be an infinite army of potential, unrealised replacements for us drifting beneath probabilities of the quantum foam, but they do not matter: what matters is that you are you, that you are here, and that you are part of something indescribably grand and special.

That you are a note in the music, a voice in the song, a raindrop in the storm.

[silveradept]

I think I understood the implications of what you said, and tried to be a little bit Vorlon-esque in response, because that particular song seemed appropriate, about all the little things going through their natural cycle and how sometimes it can be tough to appreciate that.

But hearing you say it in the long form is helpful as well. The fact that I exist causes changes, hopefully for the better, that's helpful. But the crux of the matter often seems to be a lack of feedback about how those choices affect people. In the case of butterfly wings, it may be several generations worth of time before the effects manifest...which is problematic when you're a species with a limited lifespan. We'd like to see results in our lifetimes for justification, even if we're building something that might ring once every ten thousand years or so.

Stupid mortality. Makes everything that much more wonderful and beautiful, but also the reminder that the ride must stop at some point. But I suppose most deals have to have upsides and downsides.