“Is that all there is? Is that all there is? If that’s all there is, my friend, then let’s keep dancing.”

  Peggy Lee

           It’s been here a while now, this existential crisis I’m experiencing.  It began as angst when my father died.  It was typical, in the face of death, with all the “what does it all mean?”, “What’s the point if in the end we all just die and the world goes on without you?”, that sort of stuff.

            But that angst hung around, finding a little foothold and growing roots. It sat there, tap-tap-tapping on my brain until it grew into a fairly large and annoying gremlin — a worry monster, is what call them for our son.

            Because, really — what is the point, exactly?  Not just the whole born-live-die and what we do with while we are here, but even bigger. What on earth (literally) are we doing on this planet?  Why are we here? And why does it matter?

            Are we any different than the ants who scurry through their assigned tasks be it soldier, forager, nurse, only to have an errant child’s foot, or car tire, or old age, bring it to an abrupt end? Are we any different from any other creature who has appeared on this planet, goes about its business, and when done, dies? 

            Yes, we are different in that we are gifted (burdened?) with the ability to ask “why?”  Aye, there’s the rub.

            Yeah, I know, I’m not the first one to go down this road — far better minds than I have already been there/done that. But to what end?

            Oddly enough just this week there was an interview with Stephen Hawking that essentially addresses the question, to a degree. I’m not certain it helps.

            Faith gives many all the answers they need. I’m not that fortunate.  While I have a sense of spirituality in my own way, it doesn’t answer the very real question, WHY ARE WE HERE?  Because you see, the answer would have a very direct affect on I put my time and energy into.  It would even have a direct affect on what we decided, therefore, is important for our son to learn, know, care about.  WHY ARE WE HERE?  If we are just an accident of evolution, like all species, what is our purpose here?

            When I lost my father and reached a day when I suddenly realized my thoughts had not been consumed by him, that I had begun to fall back into life’s routine — it terrified me.  What does that mean?  If life just goes on, almost as though he’d never been, then what is the point? (I know, it’s not exactly as though he’d never been, otherwise I wouldn’t be. My brother wouldn’t be).  But is that it, then? Because what of all his work? What all he created — novels, plays, poems, his directing — all he spend his life on? What does it matter now. What is the “why”?

            So beyond that, what of us all?  We are really just another species of mammal on the planet?  So what of  it?  WHY ARE WE HERE?  The  planet and all its life will continue on after each of us is gone in turn, so what is our purpose here –if it just goes on without us?  What difference does it (we) make? WHY ARE WE HERE?

            One day I will die and that will be it. Not being morose, just — real. That will be it…So?

            Elephants are here to…elephant.  Fish swim. Birds fly.

            None ask why.

            Maybe I shouldn’t either?

            Except I already have. I’ve screamed it in my head and gotten back only echoes.

            And I’m not looking for comfort.  I’m looking for reason.  Purpose.

            So?

            Is that all there is?

(okay, maybe a little comfort would hurt either.)