Suffering makes me feel odd but alive, as does joy, and in a world and universe that seems inexplicably interconnected and interdependent on itself and its “individual parts,” I’m always struck with wondering, “Why is it that the universe ended up creating conscious human beings and other forms of consciousness. Why, why, why, why, …? We suffer so much and also experience inexplicable joy, all while seeming to have so little purpose other than to be ‘the universe looking back at itself through us (which is also itself as well)’. Being an observer of something so general as the universe is difficult, and it’s even more difficult because no person or consciousness knows why he or she (or whatever) is ‘observing’ in the first place. Furthermore the observer isn’t given any directions on what he or she or whatever is supposed to be observing.

However, what is strikingly important to note is that we wouldn’t have ‘freedom’ if we were told what to observe in the first place. Being given a purpose for being isn’t really freedom at all. One cannot be given a purpose from one’s birth, for if one knew for certain that he or she exists for a particular reason aside from “just because” he or she would be robbed of all freedom. If you ask yourself, “Why do I exist, and why did the universe decide to manifest part of itself as me?” the fact that becomes clear is that the universe never had a purpose for you, and it’s clear that you have no purpose for the sake of retaining freedom. (ignoring the lower form of purpose that evolution tries to make you obey, which is not dying, which is separate from a conscious and philosophical mind).