What do you mean?
Why do you happen to be?
Your purpose as a human being? Not just a job or a calling or a career or an idea. Your overall purpose in a timeline encompassing all of human history? If the species you are born into lives any longer than you do, what will they do? How will they live?
How will our species go extinct, like any of billions of other species. Not just individual DNA, heritable traits, behavioral episodes that can be syndicated rerun shows. What will they think of our music tastes, our hairstyles, our fashion plates.
Will pillars of carved limestone hype Yeezus or will the Cult of Madonna reign?
Will we be looked upon as a time of shame? Is this the slavery of our grandchildren’s day? Is there yet another war of our world to come and wipe us off it? Maybe the flood. There’ve been asteroids and climate changes, we didn’t die yet but give it time.
A film strip, a living crystal, towering into the future. What are the fissures between us, the shear lines, the mineral inclusions? Why are we arguing about such trivial things? Why are there no sufficient medical advances that can keep us from killing ourselves? Why do we still apply lethal force to prove a point?
Are we not yet evolved to move objects with our minds? Create the world we want to live in, instead of destroying the one we’re still living in, still just surviving, every one of us. What do any of the titles matter, who do the categories serve?
I don’t know much in comparison to what there is to know, but I know some stuff you don’t. You know some stuff I don’t. Let’s trade in experiential gold. Are we here to reach each other or to get away from each other? Are we just reaping fields of friends?
We don’t know how we got this way, or what we’re here to do. All our words are fictions, but they’re real like tools. A tool is a representation of its activity; how do you do? So let it be written, so let it be done.