Why do we live? Indeed, it’s a sobering question, and one that has laid at the back of my mind since I began to think about more than recess and what snack I would have in my lunch box. With each passing year, life grew more and more difficult, and with that rising difficulty came growing existential dread. I cannot recall the amount of days I spent listlessly wondering not just how I got to be here, but why I was still here. For most of my life, I felt almost as if I had constructed a fortifying wall to block out the clamoring thoughts that would draw me to panic. When I failed to put this steel wall up, or when something started to crack it, I would suddenly be flooded by crazed, spiraling thoughts that were desperately trying to reconcile with life and why we live it.
I vividly remember one day in college, when, seemingly unprompted, I simply couldn’t get out of bed. I was wracked with thoughts about why I bothered, how the universe worked, and what the meaning of life was. I recall countless nights where I was unable to sleep for fear of some impending dread that I couldn’t quite place. I remember nights in high school where I would walk for hours with nothing but my thoughts trying to make sense of our existence.
I, then, however, figured that rather than be a victim to these thoughts, I may as well write them down in the hopes of somehow creating some meaning for myself.
Let us begin with discussing the universe. It seems out of place for me to attempt any form of commentary on its origins given my lack of knowledge of the scientific world. I suppose the leading scientific thought is the idea of a big bang — the creation of something from nothing. But of course, nothing is a difficult concept. I remember trying to come up with a definition as a child, a task that quickly proved unfruitful. I thought that maybe if I closed my eyes, what I would be seeing would be nothing. In fact, though, what I was seeing black. It was the inner sides of my eyelids. I was still seeing something. I begin to think about what the blind see. Do they see a similar fuzziness, or is it something even more incomprehensible? On this same day, I remember a younger me wrestling with whether the blind’s eyes function more like an elbow. You truly see nothing out of an elbow — no fuzziness and no black. Of course, this line of thought doesn’t have too much purpose. I apologize in advance for the many anecdotes I will be interjecting with.
Back to the topic of something from nothing, if you look up the origins of the universe, you’ll read something along the lines of an infinitely dense point that somehow exploded to create the universe. Just reading that leaves you unsatisfied. It seems understandable why so many generations have instead turned to religion to explain our existence. After all, it seems more feasible that some divine creation lovingly, ambivalently, or maliciously gave us life and created the universe. Many have pointed out, however, that this faces a problem of infinite regression. I was included in that many. I didn’t grow up religious, but I had the benefit of having a father who played in the church orchestra. I recall going to certain sermons, and blatantly asking people who had created God. When my religious grandfather provided me with books on Christianity (perhaps in some attempt at conversion. I never figured it out), I remember reading it and remaining similarly unsatisfied. It seems oddly likely to me, though, that the concepts of religion and the Big Bang need not be mutually exclusive. After all, if something was created from nothing, perhaps the first creation was in fact some divine being. Now, I adamantly hold that the 6000 year creation story is simply incompatible with what we have found through evolution. That does not mean, however, that other forms of religion may be wrong. I will pursue the topic of religion later. For now, let us return to the universe.
I seriously wish that I could even briefly see the mind of another. This desire arises from the fact that funny things happen to me when I try to think broadly. When I think too hard about the universe, my head starts to hurt and I can feel panic swell. I would be most curious to know how other people think about this. This desire to know about the minds of others has been omnipresent my whole life, particularly in the sense of wanting to know whether the things I have thought about are common experiences. I think one of my biggest issues is that I constantly get caught up in both the past and the future. When something happens that I regret, I beg the universe to send me back in time so I can repeat things. I spent hours contemplating how I would live my life had I known what certain things would lead to. In doing so, I often find myself unable to live in the present moment. I am simply consumed with a desire for what could have been. Ironically, this practice prevents me from truly realizing the goals I so desperately want. In any case, the connection here is that when I start thinking about the origins, I get caught in similar thought patterns. I loop and loop.
While we’re on the topic though, I do want to know how other people perceive themselves. For whatever reason, when I look in the mirror or try to think introspectively, I feel like I’m grasping at nothing. Quite simply, I feel like an empty vessel. I’ve often wondered if it’s the result of my “wall” I’ve constructed to prevent myself from thinking about thoughts that send me into a panic — like the universe, or mistakes I’ve made. It seems ironic. I want to protect myself from these scary thoughts, but in doing so only further isolate myself from, well, myself, which makes the wall that much stronger.
And that is exactly why I have started these meditations. To explore the thoughts I have, but more importantly, to break down this wall I have constructed that has so seriously prevented me from connecting with myself. Indeed, it feels as if I have gotten trapped in an ephemeral world where nothing is truly real. It feels like I either am trapped in these panicked thoughts, or so far removed that I live on autopilot. There may be no easy fix to this, but I can at least try, and hopefully provide some insight to you in the process.
