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Life

Consider life for a moment; consider then what it means to have aspirations for the future. Does it really even matter what we intend to do, what we hope to achieve? Is there really any point? It's simple physics, really: everything that happens anywhere is somehow the result of the interaction of energy, and it all happens in a predictable manner. Now certainly there are way too many variables to make these predictions in practice, but it still holds that there is really no such thing as actual randomness, but merely the complexity of it all which gives rise to the appearance of entropy. So it suffices to conclude, in a nutshell, that the entire history of the universe has been determined from the advent of the big bang; it's elapsation through time is merely a redundancy of sorts that provides a forum for the existence of trivialities such as humanity. This explains the meaning of life... the fact that our own being truly is without meaning outside of our own existence. Since we can have no impact on anything beyond ourselves, we are left free to operate within the framework of whatever we attempt. Yet, paradoxically, we remain forever bounded by the progression over which we have no control. So, in effect, to say that life has any meaning at all is but a falsehood; the only meaning of life is that to which it is arbitrarily associated by our own thought processes. It would be overly idealistic to say that life is what one makes of it, since empirical evidence yields proof that limits certainly bound that which can be made of life. Rather, it is appropriate to say that one is free to pursue as he wishes. Now certainly this is not true under any regulatory or governmental system, but there again these are only arbitrary creations. Under the governing of existence, though, aspiration remains liberated. In fact, that's all life really is. It is aspiration that provides a reason to play out the redundancy of our being.