By D. J. McAdam
The first person to have opined that there is no such thing as a stupid question – an opinion, incidentally, not shared by this author – must never have had occasion to come into contact with that type of individual who asks, “Why am I here?”
The question is usually asked in a vague, wistful sort of way, befitting its inherent meaninglessness. And who is this question addressed to? To oneself, usually, but sometimes aloud, which can only be regarded as a needless affectation.
There are variations on this theme, which I find no more acceptable than the original. We are, in our currently declining society, surrounded by persons who state that they are trying to find themselves, who feel that they must find their true purpose in life, who could – they tell us – accomplish a great thing, if only they knew what great thing it is that they are supposed to accomplish.
If you are one of these persons, then the comments that follow are addressed to you specifically. If you are not, then keep a copy of the following handy, so that the next time someone wishes to intrude upon your valuable time by raising this issue, you can simply hand him or her this written response, and then briskly excuse yourself.
Allow me to be direct: you are here. That is the first and primary fact that you must focus your thoughts upon. Putting questions of what is really real aside (and you will do yourself no harm and much good by putting such questions aside, permanently), you exist, as real as the Atlantic Ocean, as Mount Denali, as any maple tree in the State of Vermont. These things – oceans, mountains, trees – do not ask themselves why they are here. Do they, in any appreciable manner, suffer as a result? They do not, and neither shall you.
Mount Denali has not always been, and will not always be. Maple trees grow up from seeds, flourish, and then die. Such, also, is your fate. Whatever beliefs you may cherish regarding an afterlife, your time on this earthly plane is undeniably limited. Thus, we have established that you exist in a material sense, and that your material existence is of a temporary nature.
Well, yes, I hear you say, but that is just the point: if time is limited, should not one make optimal use of it? And how can one do that, if one does not know his or her true purpose?
The critical reader will, at this juncture, note that there is a supposition, unproven, that one actually has a true purpose.
Let us stay with our forest of maple trees. Does each tree have a purpose? One could say that maple trees provide maple syrup, but the vast majority go untapped. Some provide adequate nesting locations for birds, but many are without nests. Some provide shade, but any number are located in areas where such shade is unlikely to be enjoyed. Indeed, there are maple trees – untapped, unnested, unshading – that appear to be of no use whatsoever. Worse, there are maple trees that are downright inconvenient, that stand where one would like to put a driveway, that block inspiring views, that get their roots tangled with plumbing or underground cables.
The trees do not care. They are here, their varying degrees of potentialities intact. Untapped trees do not envy their tapped brethren. Trees with avian occupants do not look askance at their uninhabited neighbors. No feelings of guilt interrupt the nocturnal slumber of view-blockers, or cable-tanglers.
What prevents you from being the same?
“Consciousness,” you might reply, or, “self-awareness.” But consciousness and self-awareness are merely tools in your mental toolbox, available for use when the appropriate situation arises. The saw does not direct the carpenter.
Your answer could be a different one. You might say that you are unlike the guiltless, unperturbed trees because you choose to be unlike them, because you want to be unlike them. If ignorance is bliss, then you are happy to reject blissfulness.
So be it. The great theological proof of Humankind’s free will may, after all, lie in the huge number of decisions made each day that defy any semblance of reason and intelligence. But at least be consistent. If a path to happiness is open to you, and you continue to reject it, then do not also continue to complain that happiness eludes you.
But let us continue . . .
“If only I knew my true purpose,” a man thinks to himself, “what wonderful things I could accomplish!” And with that, he is off again to the bookstore, to the self-help section, where a large selection of books with intriguing titles and worthless content eagerly await his arrival.
And on this “purpose-driven” march to the bookseller’s, he is blind to those whom he passes along the way, to the homeless man who needs shelter, to the impoverished child desperate for education. He walks by the senior housing center, where the elderly, bored, would welcome a visit from him. He passes the animal shelter, filled with pets in need of adoption.
In a larger sense, this unseeing walk constitutes the poor man’s whole life. He walks by the voting booth, too busy to vote for someone with real ideals, and certainly too self-important to expose himself to slander and ridicule by running for office himself. He drives by the National Park, unconcerned about the drilling and the snowmobiling that is destroying this last bit of semi-pristine nature. He walks by the newsstand, filled with stories of wrongs to be righted, never considering that perhaps he could do something to help.
And then, at last, he comes home, holding his precious volume of advice, too self-absorbed to engage in meaningful discussion with his wife and children, too occupied to visit his parents, too concerned with learning his role in life to lend assistance to his neighbor. Does any of this activity indicate a good use of consciousness, of self-awareness?
The issue, it seems, comes down to this: you either subscribe to the theory that ignorance is bliss, or you do not. If you do, then asking about your purpose in life is nonsensical. Find yourself a maple tree, and then imitate it to the best of your ability.
If you do not – if ignorance is not your preferred pathway to blissfulness – then open your eyes! Good purposes abound, and are all around you. Which one to choose is unimportant, and I have a feeling that you already know that in your heart. Doing something worthwhile when it is inconvenient, and when the sacrifice carries with it no promise of fame and ego-gratification, is the definition of true nobility of spirit.
Thus, my advice comes down to this: be, and do. Take action when such action may accomplish some good, without any thought or hope of reward.
We are reminded here of the words of Albert J. Beveridge, who writes in The Young Man and the World (though the advice is suitable to persons of either gender, or of any age), “The point is that you must do the deed for the deed’s sake. Do not do it because the crowd will clap their hands. When present applause or ultimate fame becomes your chief purpose in life, what are you, after all? You are a play-actor – that is what you are. Put it from you. Be a man.”
Yes, be a man, or be a woman, as the case may be. And in so being, make yourself too busy to have time for idle questions.
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