The Meaning of Life

In most modern philosophy, we begin in a place of radical skepticism.  What if nothing was what we thought it was?  What if all the concepts we lived with, the most significant foundations of our lives didn't actually exist at all?  What if there was no life after death, no soul, no God?  What if there was no real basis for any authority, any social structure?  What if, in reality, there is no meaning to ourselves or anything around us?  How then should we live?  How could we live?

And it's no wonder people don't like reading philosophy.  That's pretty depressing.  Everything we spent our lives on, meaningless.  In the end, nothing.  For the most part, however, philosophy doesn't end in this place.  It tries to build reality from this place in order to establish meaning.  From this place of nothingness, we could establish our meaning.

One option is to just remain in that place.  Okay, so there's no meaning?  Fine, I can live with that.  Or I can't.  It doesn't matter, either way, for all of life is absurd, a silly game, without significance.  So is life, our relationships, our parents, our own existence just an illusion, a smoke-in-mirrors trick?  Or is life so short... the whole existence of humanity and biological life such a brief blip in the history of the universe so quick that our activities aren't worth pursuing or exploring?  If this is the case, what are the options?  Suicide? Lethargy? Reading the same opinion over and over again?

This is the point that most bring in Sarte. In summary, Sarte agrees that there is no meaning in life, but we must create our own meaning.  The true meaning is what we make, based on who we deeply are.  We seek who we are and develop our lives around that.

Are we significant enough to do this?  Well, we are knowledgeable enough to know how small we are, how briefly we live, in the scope of the universe.  We may not be significant to change the course of a solar system, but we can be significant enough to shape ourselves to be in an image of our choosing. This is knowledge and talent that no other life or entity has ever had in all of existence (so says our radically skeptical nature).

So who are we?  Are we religious? Then let us embrace religiosity. Are we sexual? Then let us embrace those pleasures.  Are we consumers of good food?  Are we active? Are we competitive?  Are we depressed?  Are we lovers of power?  We can follow those paths.

As human, however, we find that a single description doesn't suit us.  Each of us is a weave of various threads, a city within a single mind. Every one of us consumes good food, desires human connection, fears threats, wants peace, wants control over our lives.  So this requires wisdom and balance for us to live even a life without meaning.

But is our life without meaning if we speak of balance?  Is there meaning in pursuing knowledge, even if that knowledge dies when we pass on? Is there a meaning in sexual pleasure if that leads to an ongoing relationship and family and continuing generations?  Is our real problem finding a meaning only if our meaning can be cosmic?  Isn't there meaning in raising a single child, even if that child lives a short, insignificant life?  Isn't there enough meaning for that child?

Does a deer in the forest consider their lives without meaning?  No, why should she?  Nor is she filled with despair when she looks at the cosmos, that is meaningless to her.  Even if we have greater understanding of the cosmos, does that mean that we must reject the meaningfulness of the doe, simply because we are human?  The doe exists for herself, for her children.  Can we not pursue that meaning, and find that it is sufficient?

The meaning that we have as humans is not, for most of us, to be found in knowledge of the cosmos, but in other humans.  We see others, and they are a part of ourselves, we are a part of them.  The more we spend time with another human, the more a part of us they are.  This is the function of mirror neurons in our brain, which humans seem to have more developed than other animals.  We can identify not only with other humans, but certain other animals, non-living object and fictions.  This function is a deep part of our meaning.

So should we not explore others, and how they create meaning in us?  Should we not pursue social groups, compassion, love, romance, entertainments, beauty? Should we pursue acts of the human future-- politics, activism, opportunities?

Is there not meaning in the small, as well as the large?

Demons: A Philosophic Introduction

Historically, demons played a significant place in history.  Millions have died because of the assumption of demonic influence, by monotheists and polytheists and spiritualists.  Some see demons behind every corner, even today.  Demons are the epitome of evil, the enemy of humankind and of all that is good.  From a philosophic standpoint, how do we consider the demonic, or that which is called demonic?

Many call demons just a myth, just stories to entertain and to encourage certain moral practices.  Certainly the tales of Faust and Hellboy are but stories. But how does one explain the many, many experiences of evil spirits that people claim are true?  The story of The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty is supposed to be based on true events, and other exorcisms are confirmed.  What do these real events mean?  Are they all mechanisms of the insane? 

Eugene Thacker, in his philosophic work, In the Dust of this Planet, suggests that the demonic is a method by which we culturally explore the reality of nothingness. The absence of life, of meaning, of purpose frightens us so that we personify it and label it as a being itself.  This would make sense with demons being our own temptations, and evil circumstances.  But what about the stories of spirits who attack?  Of those who are innocent, but experiencing judgment?  Are demons just a way to speak of evil coincidence? Of statistical probability that bad circumstances will happen to us?

It is also true that in ages past many items that we have labels and some understanding of were called demonic in the ancient and medieval world. Schizophrenia, seizures, fits of rage and fevers were often “caused” by evil spirits in the ancient world.  So is that which we do not really understand (like schizophrenia, which we can describe and label, but not really determine the cause), or cure still a black box, even though we do not call it “demonic”?  Are we really any better off than those who called it demonic?  Is a book collecting a list and descriptions of mental disorders really any better than a witch hunter’s manual which catalogs and describes demonic activity? What is really the difference?

Associated with mental disorders are those who cannot fit into society or belong to a different culture. In the past, some were called demonic, even though they had a place in their original society, such as spiritualist healers and astrologers.  The foreign or strange is often called demonic by those who do not understand certain actions.  Is the demonic fundamentally a way of us describing our own discomfort of those who act in a socially awkward or unacceptable manner?  Are those who cannot understand or appreciate societal nuances still make outcast in the same way, even if we do not use the term “demonic”?  Are the labels that separate the unwanted any better or worse than the term “demonic”?

Is Life Worth Living?

The universe is big.  We are not.
Does our puny existence really make any difference?

Yes, we all have an instinct to survive, to thrive, but rarely do we look at the assumptions of this instinct.

Is it better for us to live as individuals?  Are we actually improving other's lives?  Are we causing life to continue or to recess?  Is our life good on its own, without reference to anyone else?  Are we living in joy or even contentment?

All of this causes us to look deeper.  What is the purpose of our lives?  Are we given that purpose by another, or do we create it ourselves?  Is our purpose innate, or is our purpose discovered over time?  Do we not discover our purpose until our life is finished and we can look back on the whole thing and discover the purpose?  Or is there no purpose whatsoever?  Is it that we just are, there is nothing else, no one else, we can really compare or contrast ourselves to because we are and there is nothing else to say about it?

And what about life and existence in general?  Are we a part of a bigger purpose, effort, or are we completely independent?  Does life, all matter in the universe have a purpose, or is it just existing and there is nothing else?  Is matter moving toward a conclusion or is it all waves, temporary patterns and return to the abyss from which matter came?

Or is there any abyss?  After all, if matter exists, did it not always exist?  And if there is existence, then does it not exist for a reason?  Even if that reason is simply to exist?  Is there not joy just in existing, even if the universe at large isn't interested?  Perhaps there is no abyss, but only being?

In the end, perhaps it is enough to know that we exist.  To end our existence is the greatest acts of pride, because that one act takes all the evidence of our existence, and calls them negligible, with less than no purpose. Because if we have no purpose, there is no reason to act.  If we act, we do so with the intent to improve.  Is not living the answer to worth?