Understanding life is one thing, asking questions and expecting answers is another. We can assume all we want that there is a purpose, a meaning, an answer. I believe there is, but why?
That is the question. Why is there Life? The meaning to the purpose to the question.
Why is there Life?
I don’t want science to tell me of the randomness, the probabilities, the unique and unlikely circumstance of it happening. I want to know why.
Here is a thought. Is the answer too big? Or perhaps the thought is too small? Can we fathom the question, or understand the meaning? Or are we simply answering ourselves? Questions keep spinning until…we stop asking. Our minds not equipped for the infinity of the questions. It keeps going, infinitely circling in our minds, until we forgot what we asked.
What did we ask again?
Such a small word, such a large possibility. Perhaps one day it will be not a matter of why, or how… it simply will be,