Do you know how many people there are in the world? A lot.

Billions.

And we are all like little ants carving out an existence for ourselves.

Sometimes, when I’m swept away by my dry and cynical side, I lose perspective and find myself overcome by the uselessness of our human existence. We live to obtain whatever amounts of happiness we can... and then we die. Game Over. If life is just a ticking clock until death overtakes it then life is a useless, meaningless endeavor.

There must be more.

It's a good thing there is. Some people can do life quite well without ever turning to something greater than humanity for an answer. I cannot. I have this philosophical side that would demand Meaning and if none were given would probably give in to complete hopelessness. It would be a dark day. I would brood. I would be bitter to a crisp. I would speak nothing but poison and search day and night inspite myself for something more.

I wonder... is this not the state of a lot of people out there? What if the real answer to our societal problems is actually meaning? Collectively we have a lack of meaning. What would happen if collectively, we discovered it…if we discovered our true and intended purpose for life?