20140516

Living life as a fatalist is debilitating.  I'm sitting there watching a movie with my kid and the pervading thought is how the dog on her lap will be gone before we know it.  Then the thoughts inevitably move towards my parents, then me.  I try I fight the realization of futility of being, the pull of humanity, but this is a powerful vortex of my own creation.  And I can never move past it, constant as a beating drum.  The drums will stop though.  Soon enough.

Ran four miles, and the 'moment of clarity' thought was "if the search for meaning is a biological imperative, why did we as humans adapt towards it.  Evolution appears to be an orchestrated adaptation towards environment.  Why then do we search for meaning?"