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Sunday, April 17, 2005

What’s the Point?

Once upon a lifetime ago, Carrie and I were staying at my grandmother’s house for the night, as we often did.  It was late into the night and we were talking away, as we always did, and suddenly she asked, “What’s the point?”

At first I was taken aback and felt a little hurt, as if she were asking what the point was of whatever it was I was rambling on about.  After all, I rarely have a point, but… I like to talk.  That’s just _me_.  She quickly followed up with, “I mean, the point of living?”  She went on about how we go to school day in and day out and our parents work day in and day out.  We go to school so we can get good jobs.  We get good jobs and work so we can get money.  We get money so we can live.  But why?  What’s the point?

I’ll be honest, I thought up lots of disturbing things to think about when I was younger, and I always fashioned myself the “pensive” one of the two of us, but that was one that hit me right in the gut and caught me totally off guard.  I’d never worried about what the point was.  It never occurred to me that there needed to be a point.  We just are.  We live, we die, we laugh, we cry.  Some days are good, most are not.  We keep going on in spite of it all, or sometimes because of it all.  Point?  Who needs a point?

As the years rolled by I often thought of that conversation.  Most times, I push it away.  At one point, in a similar discussion with my friend Ben, he suggested that the only real point and purpose is to procreate and since I’d already done that, with two to spare, I was set so now I could just sit back and kick it awhile, enjoying what life had to offer.  Of course I laughed, but there actually was some comfort in thinking I’d done what I “came here to do” sorta thing.  It was equally as disturbing because, well, shit, if I’m done… I’m… done.  What more is there?  Yeah, I guess raise the kids, but damn, a pack of wolves could raise my kids well enough that they themselves could eventually procreate, and if that’s all that’s necessary…

While it is not always a question that haunts me, there are times when it sneaks up on me.  I’ve been slipping into a funk the last few days, fighting it tooth and nail, but still slipping, and the question that keeps itching at me is simply, “What is the point?”

What do I really DO? I clean (sometimes) and cook (irregularly, but well when I do) and I try to be understanding and loving and yet steer my kids in a direction that will inspire them to be independent, thoughtful, loving, and contributing people.  I create, and in creation there is, I must admit, some point, at least at the core of me I feel something stirring, but in the end, I wonder, is it _really_ enough?  Is it really _worthwhile_?  Sometimes, the dastardly, “Why bother?” sneaks in, but I fight that one away as hard and fast as it can come, because if I go there, I really will slip into true depression.

Millions of voices crying out… in the night, on the wind, through the sparkling electronic pathways of the ‘net, to their family, to their friends, to perfect strangers… “I am here!”

Then quietly, in much smaller voices . . .

  . . . “But What’s the point?”

Posted by Liberty on 04/17 at 07:17 PM
Posted under: See-Through

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