The conversation returned to the question that had originally brought us together… “What’s the point?” Meaning, why does any of this matter? In the end, nothing we do really amounts to much.
From the perspective of the individual, we’re connected to one another via three or four generations, at any given point in time. Beyond that, people exist only as names in a grand story in which we may or may not play a significant part. This human story has been going on for hundreds of thousands of years. So, what’s the point?
It was suggested that perhaps, as a means of creating a purpose… and as a consequence thereof… that volunteering in some fashion may give more meaning and significance to our lives. It was an interesting proposition, but not one I hadn’t already contemplated. Sure, helping out by ‘giving back’ to others is a great and admirable thing to do, but it doesn’t do anything that will ultimately make much of a difference. The feelings we have when we help others are only that… feelings… and therefore, self-serving. Perhaps I’m being a bit too cynical? This very question is something I struggle with on a regular basis… finding a meaning, a point to life.