On Essence & Thought

How are our thoughts formed? Where do they come from? Why is it so difficult to stop the endless flow of thoughts into our minds? Why do we voluntarily torture ourselves with questions we know inherently have no answers?

Thoughts. I like being with my thoughts. Even though life would be simpler without them. Sometimes, I feel like I'm being driven crazy. You know, not as in mental disorders or any of that, but by thinking about something so incomprehensible so hard and so passionately, only to arrive at nothing, again and again. It’s a bottomless void, and I still jump in headfirst. It’s taking away my sanity, turning the material world into a formless substance, metamorphosing from one instance to another aimlessly, endlessly, meaninglessly. I feel trapped, unable to find answers or drop the questions.

I often think about time, existence, and the impermanent nature of things. Why aren't we given a chance to decipher our enigmatic, temporary occupation of space on this planet? I ponder how people come and go in our lives, whether I should be selfish or selfless - help myself first to help others, or put myself last just to make someone else's time here happier. Likely the former.

I imagine myself at 80 - well, hopefully - looking in the mirror and recalling this very moment when I thought about what it'd be like to revisit this memory. Will I still have the mind of a 20 year old? It feels as if I've already lived several lives in one, split into several selves - a side effect of constant self-reflection, I guess.

I think about the universe - things with no start and no end. How did the very first something appear out of nothing? The absurdity of it all is overwhelming. I think about how the people I cherish won't be around at some point, yet I’ll still be here, and life will keep on going. Strange. Experiences are fleeting, one overriding the other. We often say things we don't really mean. We’re limited by our made-up language. Some things can only be felt or understood through biological aging.

I wonder about different realities and if they exist. Wouldn't it be strange if we were the only form of life in the entire universe? What else is out there in the vastness of the universe that we can't reach or see? Has everything our minds can imagine actually existed at some point?

I think about how, as we grow older, most people stop questioning things. But in old age, we seem to revert to a childlike sense of wonder. We pause more often, notice things we've overlooked our whole lives, and naturally contemplate the approaching end. Yet somehow, we still have nothing figured out. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I think the answer is to accept that we'll never have it all figured out - and to just live, but also keep questioning. You see, these thoughts are infinitely larger than me. That’s why I say this kind of hyper-awareness, overthinking, and overanalyzing can drive one to madness, can make one feel trapped and helpless.

I really love exchanging thoughts on these kinds of ideas with others, too. That in itself is joy. Fortunately, I have a couple of people who can listen to my contemplations without getting bored, because my thoughts transform into a meaningful array of words very slowly hahah. I am always fascinated by people who seem to be able to think on the spot, I don’t think I’m a very quick thinker. I'm so grateful for the people I have in my life.

I am curious about the thought patterns, and what occupies different people's minds. There's a wide spectrum of how people engage with the world. It seems that having time for deep reflection is often a privilege that comes with certain life circumstances. Many people, due to demanding work or family obligations, may not have the same opportunities for it. Their energy might be directed towards more immediate needs and responsibilities. I feel immensely grateful for having time to take a pause and think.

You know, paradoxically having less awareness leads to more contentment. Unconcerned with the existential, many find peace in their daily routines. After all, ignorance is bliss, they say.

Then again, ignorance can walk alongside awareness and lead to indulgence in life’s pleasures for as long as possible, often enabled by favorable circumstances, with the realization of its finiteness - or, to put it bluntly, milking the system while you can.

Now, according to Tolstoy, there’s also a category of exceptionally strong people who, having understood the “stupidity of life,” are determined to end it promptly by suicide. I would argue whether that can be called strength. To me, it’s a cowardly and weak escape from what’s been given to us for a reason. Even if the reason is not meant to be discovered, there’s still a plethora of things to occupy our bodies and minds with during our given time to make it worthwhile.

Life is worthwhile. Life is an incredible adventure only to the extent that we make it so. Our problem is that we’re obsessed with infinity, immortality, and the beyond. But we don’t need to be - all we need is to take one infinitesimal step at a time, called the present, despite knowing that all steps lead to the same destination. That, to me, is real strength.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow that so many people before you have searched for the meaning of life, only to find nothing. And so will you - search and find nothing. That’s just how things are. That’s how one becomes a nihilist. I believe nihilism is a very dangerous attitude. In spite of all the irrationalities and absurdities, I think life is truly a precious gift. The point of life, to me, is to explore - both literally and metaphysically. It’s about learning as much as you can about the various subjects that interest you, experiencing as much as possible, not spoiling the fun for your fellow explorers of this world, and being kind to them.

One may ask: what is the purpose of wishing for or doing anything if it will inevitably be removed from existence? That is a question each of us must answer for ourselves. For me, it comes down to curiosity. Curiosity is the driving force. It’s impressive that we humans have the ability to question, reason, and draw conclusions. Even though every day, unless maintaining extreme self-discipline, we battle our primary instincts - desire for power, food, sex, and rest - we are still capable of thinking about abstract and empirical sciences.

Empirical sciences, such as mathematics, biology, and chemistry, are finite in their supply of information - they have clear, calculated answers that fit within the constraints of the material world, answers that will always remain the same, like axioms. On the other hand, abstract sciences - linguistics, philosophy, metaphysics - also seek definitive answers through thought and reason, but they often lead only to more questions. They serve more as tools for precisely posing questions, making them more complex and unanswerable as we seek answers. They are intangible, speculative, and highly contextual, often becoming an intellectual torment.

It’s interesting to think that everything is just a transitory interaction of particles and chemical reactions in the instantaneous, but even that doesn’t provide the answer to the ultimate "Why?" What is the point of my existence as an individual? What is the point of our existence as a species? In its most basic form, life is an accidental interaction of transitory particles - it lasts for a while, then disintegrates along with our questions. It’s quite depressing to reduce ourselves, who think of ourselves as important and supreme, down to mere atoms. But it is what it is.

This is why we tend to romanticize things so much. It’s why we try to find meaning, beauty, and emotion in everything - even though, objectively, there is none. Subjectivity exists only as long as those particles continue their interaction. But this still doesn’t answer the "Why." It’s merely a material chain of events with reactions and consequences, but no essence, no truth.

For some people, the answer lies in religion - it provides a template to follow, so there’s no need to think deeply anymore, only to conform to what it presents as the truths.

I’ve already briefly mentioned this earlier, but to me, the answer is to accept the inaccessibility of certain answers to the human mind or eye. Instead, we should concern ourselves with the present moment and make the act of thinking a pure form of entertainment. As long as thinking brings us joy, we should continue to do it, without making the goal to arrive at a definitive conclusion.

In other words, we must accept that truth is not a part of life. It exists outside of it, and only as we approach the finish line might we discover it - if it even exists. Well, some truth certainly does exist - that this is either a joke being played on us or an interstep to something greater. Either way, that truth wouldn’t matter to our current selves.

To me, the ultimate truth is not found in life - the truth is in annihilation. Annihilation is a beautiful word. Of course, it comes from Latin, where “nihil” means “nothing,” and so annihilation literally means the reduction to nothingness. If, at some point in time infinitely long ago, something was born out of nothing, then annihilation is a living force - not something to be feared.

When Siddhartha, according to legend, left his kingdom for the third time and saw a corpse, he asked if the same fate awaited him - if he too would be buried and eaten by worms. After that, he could no longer find comfort in life and made it his goal to destroy the roots of life and any form of rebirth by attaining enlightenment - the essence of Buddhism.

It’s strange how we humans are able to carry on with our lives in full consciousness of the inevitable struggles of old age, knowing that one day we’ll be gone and so will everyone we’ve once loved. Yet somehow, we manage to push that thought into the deepest corners of our minds, allowing it to overwhelm us only rarely.

Anyway, let me wrap this up here for now: I see life in layers - the metaphysical, transcendental, and abstract where we lose ourselves, detached from the earthly reality that lacks objective purpose. Then there's the tangible present, the material life we can study and solve, finding meaning in the process. It's a constant dance between these realms, a struggle and a joy, that defines our, well, not so brief existence.