It's All a Bunch of Nonsense, I tell you!

It's just all nonsense sometimes.

What is life?  What's the point, really?  We're born, raised, grow up, and then repeat the process (or continue it) by having offspring.

We accumulate material goods by indentured servitude (i.e. work) and if we don't, we can't live in a material world.

There is no escaping this system.






We can't take any material stuff to the grave.

Everything we do to build a physical world, a life, in this reality will be left behind in death.  We won't care anymore; whether we move on to some other existence or not, all that crap stays behind.
So why work for things which, in the long run, mean nothing?

If it's just this animal, biological, mechanical, mundane existence, then why try so hard to live it?
There are many cliche responses, but they do nothing to explain why we're doing it... why keep doing the same things if we die and nothing that we did matters?

Maybe if you're someone like Abraham Lincoln, or a mythological figure like Thor, your name and deeds live on... but does that even matter if you don't?  What good is fame and fortune if you're dead?
So for most of us, we'll live in anonymity and, when we're dead, everything we've done and accumulated will be left for others and slowly fade into nothingness.  Anyone who didn't know you in "real" life will not care about you or what you did; in a generation or two, it will be as if most of us didn't exist.


So barring any supernatural explanations, what exactly is the point of this nonsense?

This is life?  Really?  Repeat the same nonsense everyday so we can have a few memorable experiences?  Visit the world so we can see all the amazing things on earth?  If it doesn't matter, if we're just material beings, what do all those experiences add up to?  If I die after touring the planet, do I die as a well-traveled man?  Do I come back as a world-trekking ghost?

Without some meaning to why we're doing all these things, like programmed robots without a soul, there doesn't seem a point to doing them.
 
Is it just repetition, tradition... things we carry on without ever really knowing why?
That's pretty asinine.





I'd like to think that life would be worth living, that I'd want to strive for more experience, if I understood why I experience anything at all.

Do I accept that we're just hyper-evolved animals living a different type of material, biological existence?  So that point then is to consume and reproduce, basically.

Cool.  Wonderful...  such a meaningful thing.


Ah, maybe it's about the magic word - love.

So you feel love and it makes life worth it?

You also feel sadness, anger, loneliness, etc.  Do those things make life worth it?
Is feeling things the point of life?  To what end?  What do feelings accomplish?  What do they tell you about why you exist?

It's nonsense.