The reason of being

An oft brewing question in my mind, the existential justification, takes
the better of me today yet again. Why do I exist? What is the purpose of my
life? Why do I do what I do? Why do I work? Why do I hope? Why do I eat?
Why do I survive? Why do I live?

I do not buy that survival is the ultimate essence of life. There has to
be a purpose, a reason, which would quantify the purpose of our
existence. It need not be anything complicated. It could be decently
simple. But what is it? Surprising, isn't it, that we (humans) carry on
with our daily chores, quite ignorant of your ultimate purpose? We don't
know where we are headed. All that we know is that we are moving --
directionless. Or are we still?

Humans are able to foresee immediate purposes and plans with easy
deftness, however, the successor to all these errands is bluntly
unknown. How could God manage to keep us in such illustrous illusion --
make us move without telling the direction? Isn't it something like we
set a rabbit to motion in a maze-like confinement. The rabbit doesn't
know where it has to go, in what direction to proceed. But it still
keeps going, appearing to be looking for a way out. It doesn't have any
direction or motivation. Perhaps, to think of a direction in the
maze-like confinement doesn't even make much sense. Is it the same with
us humans as well? Doesn't it make sense of asking of our directions?

Also interesting is the fact that we cannot satisfactorily explain what
life is. Every moment of time, however small, we experience life, but we
don't know what exactly it comprises of, what it wants -- directions.

Einstein said: I do not belive that the good Lord plays dice. I just want
to know his thoughts. The rest are details. -- How true!