To look at the meaning of existence, one generally assumes a couple things. 1. There is one, and 2. That it’s likely the same for all people if there is one.
But for me — I believe it’s actually personal to each person. There’s far too much variation in the entire frame of perspective for each persons situation to involve the exact same meaning.
A religion may be the closest thing to meaning for many, and I don’t begrudge them that, nor would I want to spend any considerable time saying why exactly that’s not my particular guiding principle either. To do so is rather easy for many, and I think a distraction.
If one wants to find meaning for themselves, they can and should do so without spending their whole lives trying to rip down others.
Now why do I think there’s any meaning at all?
Well I must say I’m not actually on some unadulterated search for truth – my motives are not altogether stripped of self-interest. I wouldn’t lay myself on the proverbial alter to get at some ultimate key for all people. I just want to know how to live my life better, how to treat people with respect, and how to derive some enjoyment of my day to day living.
And so, my quest for meaning is assuming there is meaning because honestly I want to. I like the idea of
Meaning, and to me it seems pragmatic or practical to think about life as if it has meaning? Does that prove that life has meaning, no. But perhaps it may be interesting to that one other human being believes deriving meaning from day to day life is useful for themselves. Does life have to be meaningful for you? I can’t make that jump for someone else, only that I find it useful for me.
Why is this blog called ghost in a meatsuit?
Sometimes it feels like our brains are separate from our bodies.
Sometimes it feels like I have a spirit separate from my brain even, but maybe it’s just a ghost. A phantom, an imaginary spirit.
I do know I love pondering it, and I love examining what that spirit is, or where it might have come from.
Maybe it’s an alien electrical current, a resurrected inter-dimensional being. Maybe I took too much acid 10 years ago, maybe I didn’t take enough.
Maybe I’m still mind controlled by my Christian upbringing 20 years ago, I still remember speaking in tongues, and falling over. I don’t know if it was always on purpose, but I know sometimes it was, and it was fun. I loved raising my hands, and asking the spirit of god to filled me, and feeling like it did. I spoke on the streets to people and told them they needed Jesus.
I came to regret all that and ashamed of it.
I came to think of it as emotional abuse of a kid who just wanted to be accepted by those around them, and this was the way to earn their respect.
This blog is called ghost in a meatsuit because of the fragility that is human life. We are so fragile that if someone stabs or shoots us we literally stop being. Likely we stop being totally, or of course – famously, we go somewhere else like heaven or hell, like a whispy little, sneaky – cool ghost.
I am one of those cool ghosts – just click clackin away at my computer without the expectation that many will read this. Thumbing away at my phone keyboard and staring down at the bikers in my city. I wanted this platform to be honest – to break through my normal blogging and to bare my soul so to speak. Maybe it’s about politics, maybe it’s about religion, or maybe it’s about meaning, but I don’t want to be afraid to share how I really feel.
So even though I’m fragile, and probably wrong a lot – I wanted to say some things and see if any one cares. If not – at least I found out how I really felt in a platform that was built on autonomy and in a way where I want to be real.