Life

——-Author’s Note——-

“Leigh, what do you think the meaning of life is?”

I’ve had so many lovely philosophical conversations that begin this way. But I always feel like this question is the worst to ask.

Why does life have to have a meaning? Why can’t we create our own?

I’m an atheist; I don’t buy into the idea of a god concept, but I do feel there is a presence in our universe that pushes us along. I’m not sure what that is, but I know it’s not anything a Bible can give you. So what then? What is life? Frustrating to you as it might be, I don’t think life has a singular meaning or a predetermined destination. It’s absolutely not a journey; it just is.

Here’s a poem that captures my feelings.

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I reject the notion of deities, be they divine or abstract. I refuse to serve, for I am beholden to none.

Time, a human invention to lend significance to our existence, feels almost meaningless when stripped of its constructs.

Time does not unfold like a tree from soil; it is transient, with no true beginning or end—a mere fleeting flash on the cosmic scale.

And what then? Embrace the chaos of existence. Seek joy in heartache and solace in pain, for our very being emerged from chaos. Once you accept this, everything falls into place.

Forget time, for no one reaches life’s end believing they had ample time. It’s the actions taken in this life that truly matter, not the wishes left unfulfilled.

Life is not a journey, but an experience—simultaneously good and bad. It’s up to you to create and apply meaning. You are your own deity, capable of great creations; you need only strike the match.