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Does life have to be meaningful?

Rebellious mindfulness in persistence of the unknown.

The meaning that is found in this life is sometimes scattered and uneven. Some of us find it in religion, others in our profession, or our children. But sometimes we lose sight of what gets us out of bed and what staves off the existential dread that inevitably drifts into our head because we all know that one day that this will end.

What comes after that? We can’t be certain. All we can do is try to live a life such that it does not feel like a burden to wake up and to move about from one day to the next.

Day after day, year after year. We wonder why we are here. We know not where we will go, what will become of us, or if there is any hope for the other side. We simply have to abide by the laws of the living because we are alive. At this time, in this moment, we are alive.

Should we appreciate that which is given to us just because it’s what we have? Or, instead, should we spend time questioning it? Why exactly might we be here?

The ultimate fear is that there is no answer, no rhyme, no reason. If we’re all just floating by like the change of the seasons, but there is no recycling of us ourselves. How do we deal with the existential truth that we ourselves are ephemeral beings?

That is the greatest practice of mindfulness. Isn’t it?

We choose to live life, even if it has no clear meaning.


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