In Defense of the Moth or The Philosophy of a Meaningless Dance in the Blinding Heat

It is unreasonable to assume that the current status of man’s knowledge and ability to reason—an assumed high water mark in a constant flood (the rains only stop when we cease to exist)—and the current intelligence with which man is able to witness and recognize the world around him cannot be trusted to discern and know any inherent meaning or “truth” as it pertains to a universal meaning for the life of mankind. We are either too juvenile or unevolved in our current iteration to know, the ability (or abilities) having to be housed in something exponentially more advanced, or we can never know.

Thus, in a world with no inherent meaning it is the duty of each individual to divinely inspire from within and create individual meaning for ourselves. Additionally, one must let others live life to their personally created standard and personally stated meaning.

What we can say with a degree of confidence is that there is within every living being a hardwired and programmed nudge to engage in certain behaviors; the moth clumsily flutters around the heat of light sources with its compatriots for seemingly no reason (at least to the perception of humans), mankind’s brain electricity creates images and ideas while unconscious in the form of dreams for unknown reasons and, despite the ruin to himself (and his family or other constructs of cultural anthropology), the alcoholic drinks to a point of a loss of freedom (via the social construct of incarceration) or death, whichever comes first.

If to an alcoholic, after an exhaustive inventory of values and worldview within a cost/benefit analysis framework, the meaning created for his life is to live fueled by his passion and his genius (to use the word as the ancient Greeks used it, which is to say his special and innate talent or perhaps something he was even born to do?) then who are we to judge, impede and condemn? Just as we would not think twice at an eclipse of moths dancing with each other for the attention of the street lamp, one should allow the honest alcoholic of integrity to slowly kill himself without shame, but on the contrary, with measures of honor and respect. Why? Because, in summation, the task of the investigative man is the reconciliation of personal meaningfulness with existence (to create his own values and meanings, based on unique perspectives, desires, and goals, and to embody them with full buy-in and integrity, whether for "good" or for "bad"), engaging in that hardwired and programmed nudge until the end of days, or die trying.

Ultimately, it is my opinion and the premise of a book I'm writing that there is no meaning—at least no meaning we as humans are capable of understanding and appreciating—and the attempt to find a universally understood meaning is ridiculous and futile. The sooner one embraces "the gentle indifference of the world", one can begin to actually live (or die, or commit suicide**).

**I disagree that we must imagine Sisyphus happy. It is my position that once Sisyphus lost his freedom to live a life he believed in, he became inefficient and a coward.