The arrow of the human race, the point of the human race…

People worry about how long the human race will last, whether we’ll eradicate ourselves, or be destroyed by an asteroid. It’s theorized that most civilized races (or quasi civilized, as in our case) don’t survive the point where they lose control of their technology; where they fail to control weaponry, or fail to deal with self destructive environmental tendencies. We may survive, or we may not. But thinking that the point of existence, our justification as a species, is somewhere off in the future, might well be surrender to illusion; it might be captivation by a mirage.

It’s more likely that we exist so that *something* can experience what we experience, through us: our ancient ancestors hunting, mating, engaging in simple ecstatic dances; moments of triumph and despair; our art, our music, our moments of intimacy and companionship. The thing that created us so that it would not be alone…the thing that looks into its own eyes when we gaze into one another’s eyes…

It is satisfied, whatever we do. It’s simply here, through us, for the adventure; for the self discovery. It is the universe discovering itself from within.

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