Nothing here is set in stone
Nothing’s ever set in stone
Everything I have some day will fall apart and fade away

-The Bravery

Why do humans search for meaning in life? Why does the fear of regret prompt us to follow dreams, pursue grand plans, and make us try to live a life that will serve a purpose and allow us to say “I lived a meaningful life” before we die? Is the fear of being forgotten in our genes? Do atheists and theists alike agree that there is some bigger picture that we have a duty to minister to? Why is it part of human instinct to justify one’s own existence?

No other animal does that. Every other being has the same instinct, purpose, and day to day goal: survival. Sure, we have that instinct, but the ability to ask “why” makes our lives completely unique. In some ways I’ve answered my own question: with more advanced brain power, we can’t help but kill some time wondering about shit. Who hasn’t looked at a dog and thought, “boy it would be nice to just sit around all day, be happy and not get bored.” But it’s like Marvin the Paranoid Android from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy; he’s so amazingly smart that you couldn’t possibly give him something to think about that would completely cure his boredom or ease his depression. We have to occupy ourselves with curiosity.

But while I am sporadically envious of the blissfully ignorant, my abstract thinking ability has also revealed to me the ludicrousness and futility that is the survival instinct in itself. Our own demise is guaranteed, even most animals seem to realize that. So not only do we fight to last as long as we can, we have the irresistible urge to procreate to ensure that something of ourselves or our species continues on. But why? What is the point of surviving only to meet our ultimate doom when the planet is destroyed or when the universe collapses back on itself?

There may be an abundance of unknowns regarding life, but one of the few things we know with some certainty is that everything we know will come to an end at some point, even if that point is in the distant future. So is our constant clamoring for meaning simply our way of dealing with this one seemingly unavoidable truth, this great uncertainty caused by a single certainty?

Well, I have my personal theories. But who the hell knows?