So often I wonder about life and its randomness. There does not seem any pattern to life. Yet almost all but the most evolved among us go on living as if we have decoded life. We wallow in our miseries and assign it “high” importance in our priorities. We feel incomplete and empty regardless of our life’s situation. Wealthy or not, healthy or not, we are all miserable, all the time. We seem to be chasing impossibility…
Death comes and apparently we transcend this plane. But no one on this plane knows what lies beyond – or if there is anything beyond. At best there is only second- or third-hand information. At worst there is speculation about soul and spirit, consciousness and energy.
These days ever more frequently some questions pop up inside my mind:
Who am I?
Why am I here?
Why are the others here?
What’s this emotion called love?
Why do I feel so attached to some?
Is my love/attachment selfish – is it only an emotional need?
Is there something called true love – love without wanting/needing?