In the lens of cosmology, we little human beings on earth are just like
mayflies to those distant stars light years away. All that matter to us, are ephemeral, to the minds of galaxies in the universe.
Thanks to astronomy, we are bequeathed with both relief and
disbelief. The sense of studying human existence in cosmological perspective brings the paradoxes of discrediting everything or hopefully, antidoting unnecessary anxiety. It unexpectedly incurs the fateful question, what is the purpose of being? It is perplexing to think of the answer, better to play deaf.
But I cannot. The question haunts me like a chronic
condition, which strikes unexpectedly to push me towards fruitless reflections. What is the meaning of sleeping, waking up, eating, and working every day? What is the utility of those worldly chores, including the typing at now? It is hard to see that everything done for pleasure or survival. The experience of living itself is just like a well-designed board game that comprises of pleasure, work, failure, or success. These little, hidden feelings to be explored are the treasures bestowed upon us to make the journey more memorable.
Even for beings as little as a mayfly, it may be worthwhile
to live it by itself. Just as the old saying goes, what matters is not the
destination but the scenery along the road, and the companionship that we fall into.
Martian Notes
A blog of random thoughts afloat in the sea of life
Martian Notes 
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