Читать книгу Does The Universe Need Me? - Raphael Dorsainvil - Страница 3

The question of universal need arose from living a life akin to that of Sisyphus⎯a monotonous life in which I existed as a mere object of labor, mired in platitude, and futility. Living in the mirage of stability authored by a steady paycheck, while concurrently sustaining an ongoing inner dialogue with a corrosive sadness⎯one day, sitting in front of my computer, feeling empty⎯I asked my self, “Does the universe need me?” At that moment, asking the question was an effort to abate the emptiness that was related to the idea⎯my existence was a means to no end.

It was emptiness that led to the question⎯not a penchant to satisfy philosophical curiosity, or to present an analytical magnum opus to society. The emptiness was one element of an emotional mixture that included a desperation for a clearly predetermined objective for existence. I believed, knowing and understanding this objective would direct me, thus securing my confidence that existence was purposive.

My trek of desperation was analogous to a room that had a door, that opened into another room that had a door, that opened into another room that had a door ad infinitum. None of the rooms kept the coveted eutaxiological Ark of the Covenant that contained the sacred tablets clearly defining this objective I was searching for.

I wanted direction. Who or what would direct me, and toward what? If there were a grand predetermined objective, what was the function of my monotonous life in this objective? Oddly, I did not subscribe to the creed existence was imbued with purpose. I wanted existence to have purpose because I felt my repetitive life was pointless.

Thinking critically about the point of existence made me feel empty. Although I failed, I tried to arrest my emptiness by not thinking too deeply about life. It was rather grandiose of me to ask such a question. I’m not a philosopher. I’m a miserable man with deep thoughts. I suppose misery alone is enough to drive a person to think⎯what is the purpose of my misery in the grand scheme of things? If the universe does need me, why does it need me to suffer? But the question of universal need does not only address human suffering⎯it addresses human existence.

The answer that would assuage my emptiness would remain undiscoverable. I searched for purpose. I could not find it. How could I possibly answer this question objectively? I could not. The search for purpose is a philosophical endeavor not an empirical one. Some of the ideas that serve as an answer to the question of whether or not life has meaning, is based on conversations that I have had with friends and family. I had no answer to this question, but they did. A critical examination of their answers disclosed a practical perception of their purpose in life that is characterized by popular psychology. In examining the less practical answers to the question of purpose in the universe, with all its sophistication insured by a detailed examination of the universe, from a prominent figure of academia, the “anthropic principle”, clings to a kernel of practicality⎯if the universe is fine-tuned, then it must be fine tuned for humans. The somewhat laborious analysis of the anthropic principle and other lofty topics was incidental. From the onset, the reason for writing this book, was simply to cope with chagrin and emptiness.