A LIFE THAT WE IGNORE

 

Why are we here! We all are searching for the answer to this question, consciously or unconsciously. But mostly people don't even care to ask this question due to the busy factor in their daily lives.

They wake up, rush to work or school, deal with responsibilities, stress, deadlines, relationships, and distractions and before they know it, the day is over. Then weeks pass, months disappear, years fly by.

In the middle of this chaos, that one question: Why am I here? gets buried beneath noise.

Yet, in rare moments, perhaps during a long walk alone, or when staring at the stars, or when something tragic or beautiful happens, it whispers again. And for a second, we pause.

Some find their answer in religion. Others are in love, in art, in helping people, or in chasing knowledge. Some never find it but keep looking, hoping that the journey itself gives meaning.

Maybe that's the truth: the question matters more than the answer. Maybe we are here to ask, to seek, to grow, to experience not to arrive, but to move.

After all, existence is not a destination. It's becoming.

And in becoming, maybe just maybe we touch the edge of meaning.Why are we here?

This question has haunted thinkers for centuries from Socrates, who urged us to "know thyself," to Nietzsche, who challenged us to create our own meaning in a godless world.

And yet, despite centuries of wisdom, no universal answer has emerged. Perhaps that is because the question itself is too vast for a single truth.

We live in a universe indifferent to our existence: stars burn, galaxies spin, and the Earth orbits the sun with or without our presence. And yet, here we are: breathing, feeling, wondering.

Is that not a miracle in itself?

Some argue we are the result of cosmic chance atoms colliding in just the right sequence to spark life. Others believe we are part of a divine plan, each soul a fragment of a greater purpose.

And then there are those who say: meaning is not given, it is made.

What if the question “Why are we here?” is not a problem to solve, but a mirror to hold up to ourselves?

What if the meaning of life is not hidden in the stars or scriptures but in how we live, how we love, how we choose to treat each other in the silence between questions?

Maybe we’re here to struggle with that question, not to escape it.

To let it shape us, humble us, guide us but never own us.

Maybe the purpose of life isn’t to find one answer, but to stay awake to the mystery.

And in that awareness in that stillness where asking becomes more sacred than knowing 

we might just find ourselves closer to the truth than we’ve ever been.