On being significant

Coming to grips with the harsh reality that is our universe, is never easy. It's pushing and pulling, stretching and contorting the mind around a million facts at once. It's seeing patterns that don't exist. It's uncertain. It's unpredictable. It's really, really, really enormously huge. The strange thing is though, that for brief moments, our language sums up the experience quite nicely. Nothing can replace the senses, but for those who have not yet succumb to this jolting revelation, reading about it must be the next best thing.

Depending on how a person sees their own worth; the value of the sum of their experiences; the time they've spent and will spend just living, they may deem themselves important, in a grander sense, or not. Some do not prize this label, considering it inferior to credibility, honesty and most of all, humility. To some, these things like money and fame are enough to instill pride in ones own accomplishments, and so they are proud. For others, though they may never be writ into history, their lives are sewn into the fabric of time, and it's enough just get the chance to be alive.

Mostly, I feel I fit into the latter category, but I think at one point or another we all ask ourselves the question: Why am I here?

My next post will be an exploration into that question. Let's see what I come up with, and in the meantime, please send me your comments or questions that you'd like to include in the discussion. That's an offer that won't expire until I do. Ha!