Love, the point of our existence

Why do we exist? What purpose do we, tiny, insignificant humans serve in the grand scheme of things? Is it the fact that we had some unfinished business in our past lives that “fate” wants us to finish in this life? Or are we here to fulfill some prophecy made by someone ages ago? 

C’mon, that’s just way too dramatic. I think the purpose of our existence is pretty simple. It’s the simplest, most natural, most spontaneous feeling ever. Love. 

Okay, maybe not the most spontaneous. I think the most spontaneous feeling is the fear for our lives. But love is pretty close to being the most spontaneous feeling experienced by every human being that ever existed. 

Love fills the heart with joy. Isn’t joy what we all constantly seek in life? 

Love gives us a reason to feel great, and not just feel great about ourselves but just about everyone and everything. But on the other hand, the same love can send us mad with jealousy, envy and desire. 

Love gives hope, of a better future, however bleak that future may be in truth. And I don’t need to tell you how hope keeps us going on, no matter what the future may hold for us. 

Is love an illusion? At times, I feel it is. But anyday, I would rather have the illusion of love than the bitter truth about the future. Love is the preferable illusion, the desirable one. And it is why we exist. It keeps us hoping, dreaming, of a better tomorrow, of a happier life, of a cozier home, of a larger car, of a heftier pay package; of a kinder, warmer relationship – basically everything we desire and everything we work towards, we do so because we love. We love someone or something so much that we make every possible effort to attain it.

And thus, we go on existing. 

Things Left Unsaid

We say “Past is past” but is it really? Does it really ever go away? Or do we leave traces of ourselves back there that keep connecting with us? It seems that we leave a part of ourselves, a version of what we used to be, in the past, to dwell, to pine, to long for what could have been. This exquisite, haunting post about the past is written by a friend of mine. He knows how to write beautifully. His words, like a pensive tune, echo in your mind long after you’ve read them.  http://wp.me/p7s3yG-6K