6th September 2016. Today, I start writing. Aalap has suggested me the exercise of writing three pages each morning spontaneously. It is very intriguing exercise and it will be very interesting to find out what I write.
There has been an undercurrent of cluelessness in my life ever since I can remember making conscious decisions. My pretensions with the help of societal standards usually kept this at bay, but it has started coming to the fore recently. It’s often a numbing feeling, with bouts of depression induced by the frequent realization of the ‘pointlessness of life’. Yet, survival instinct cannot be denied, and life goes on.
In the modern world, it is easy to get caught up in the pace of life without finding any real meaning. Those who willingly accept this, and go with it, often find more worldly success than those of us who decline to participate. Being the Wallflowers of the world can often lead to a sense of self righteousness which maybe justified to a certain extent. But the answers that we all are looking for – it is safe to say – none of us are finding them. What use is it then, to continuously strive for something that is always going be out reach?
And, more importantly, why cannot we find these answers? To keep with the pessimistic flow of this article, I am going to explore the possibility that what we’re looking for, simply doesn’t exist. That, Darwin and The Theory of Evolution that we encountered in the previous millennium were right.
So far, I’ve realized the biggest hindrance in the life of us all is Survival. The Wallflowers often blame the economic system of this world and the concept of currency, due to which, all of us are forced to, till a varying extent, unwillingly participate in some aspects of life. But, that is not an economy problem; it is a survival problem. The ancients needed to hunt everyday and protect themselves from natural calamities, while in the modern world, we need to work a 9-to-5 job. Wherever you go, whatever you do, whatever you tell yourself, Survival is the prime motive of life.
And, if that’s true, why do most of us need some other purpose greater than ourselves to find meaning and, consequently, happiness? More importantly, are we kidding ourselves, in trying to convince ourselves that there can be some other purpose greater than ourselves? The bottom line remains, even if something such as the purpose of life exists, we’re not going to find it. We’re beings limited by time, burdened to survive.
Happiness, it is often said, is a choice. I am not sure I agree with that, or maybe I do, till a certain extent. It is a simple statement, with vastly complex implications.