We can turn back time, cosmic time specifically, to our fledgling universe and its first molecules in the sea of exotic matter. Hypothesised by inflation theory, we can form an image of how the cosmos might have seemed 10^33 seconds after the Big Bang, barely an infant by its relative time scale. The point when traces of CMB radiation are first visible, our current laws of physics break down beyond it, which is a better way of saying, nobody knows. Is it physics which isn’t ready, or is it the human mind that cannot process such knowledge yet? Either way, any point before the CMB threshold is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps there was no universe to understand then, an assortment of matter swirling in newly formed space, colliding, collapsing, forming anew.
Even then, explaining existence, not the reason for it, but simply the concept of being at all is vastly beyond our little minds. What exists outside the universe? Let’s say we’re part of a multiverse, what is beyond that? If that is all there is, how big is everything? For all the synonyms of infinity we throw around, we cannot begin to comprehend it. Our place in time and space is similar to an exam you haven’t understood the matter for, but you’ve memorised a few random answers without context. And it is with this uneasy sense of a stumbling child we move forth. In a world of non being, duality is a perceptive error, and knowledge, an illusion, but it may very well be the only thing we have.
All philosophy is quite useless, for application anyway. The point is, should that be reason enough to stop us? Millennia of speculation, based off of the equally dubious opinion of other speculators, what does it mean to be? Why are we? What does it mean to be good? In a moral system existent entirely upon self constructed values, with the details hazy at best, can anything be good? Does it matter if it is? Philosophy carried out upon predetermined tenets is inherently contradictory. Anything can be philosophy, form opinions, think about things, anything, the nature of existence to the nature of homework, because in all its uncertainty, philosophy is the most human thing you can do. Everybody is a philosopher, composing maybes to answer questions we cannot know. Perhaps we’re all looking for our own small answers, again, nobody knows. What does it lead to? Why do we live? No one has really got life all figured out, we’re only trying to get by, making things up as we go along. Some people pretend better than others, but we’re all together in our shared ignorance. What am I even doing with my life? The good thing, relative though it may be, is it doesn’t really matter. We got pushed into life, now we’re trying our best to be happy, living by the day doesn’t seem so terrible. Someday it will end, the lights on the horizon will cease to shine, you’ll lock things up, pull the curtains down, and die. Some get their closure, others don’t, it doesn’t matter, life is what it is, it is nothing. A terribly depressing species aren’t we? Some days, life has the slow, drowning beauty, of a green stained broken mirror in a moss hugged house, and you’re all but waiting to die, enraptured by how humbling a storm can be. Some days you’re happy, others you’re not, it goes on. There is no point to it, we set our goals, arbitrary, flimsy, there is no deeper meaning to existence, that is the absurdist rebellion, peace. What if we’d been born a second later? A century sooner? Our consciousness still us, what if? I always liked choose your own adventure books, you could go back, take all the alternatives, live each story, no regrets. A pity we can’t do that now. I miss all the people I could have been, and maybe I’d have met different people, loved someone else, lived someone else, but I wouldn’t have been who I am now, and although I do not know if it is any better, it is what it is, and if it is now,it is in living the life we chose that makes us. The point is to get by, live with what you’ve made, and if you don’t like it, make something new. There are really no rules to this thing, things happen, and we can’t explain why all of them do, but we take the things we know, take those we don’t, and get back up to try again having learnt something new.
You don’t have to try so hard, it’s alright to take some time, we’re all running blind anyway. There is no victory march, we’re all only lost children trying to find our way home, wherever, whatever that may be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.