The Meaning of Life

What’s it all about, Alfie?

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by Neva J. Howell unless otherwise noted

Pondering Why I’m Here at All

It seems to me that life (this experience of breathing and eating and sleeping and thinking and feeling) has little meaning unless I assign meaning to it.

At times, like today, I feel ill-equipped to assign meaning to anything.

I make eye contact with the shih tzu that shares space with me. He makes a sound. For him, meaning is whether or not I will drop a bite of beanitos nacho cheese navy bean chips his way. That is enough for him at the moment.

Oh, but wait. The cat appears and a whole other level of experience comes his way. What to do? Wait for the bite of chip or pursue the cat? The shih tzu pursues the cat.

If I am a shih zhu in this thing called life, am I waiting for the dropped nacho chip or am I pursuing the cat? It is a question of no small importance to me.

However, just moments later, the cat is by my side and the shih zhu is back at my feet, sniffing for chips. He also wants to be held, which I will accommodate.

So, in a matter of moments, I have both the cat and the dog nearby. Is there spiritual significance to be assigned to any of this? All of this? Will all come in due time if one but waits in watchful observance? An interesting question to ponder.

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