“Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Macbeth, upon hearing of Lady Macbeth’s death (Act V, Scene V).
Last week I asked if this life has meaning. In reality, there are only 2 answers – yes and no.
If this life is all, then why exist? Why does evolution care about survival? If life came from non-life “by accident” then what meaning can life have but accidental.
Can we create our own meaning?
Many people say that we can create our own meaning in this life – philosophers, scientists, everyday people. The question that remains is “How?” Where does this meaning that we create ourselves come from?
How can an accident create a purpose?