The struggle to have a sense of ourselves beyond just what we have to do everyday is never ending. Aside from what we do, what else is there to actually give us substance? I have this fearful feeling that this is merely more of my nasty habit giving meaningless things meaning. All the same, I cannot shake a sense of every person I meet having some deeper, more spiritual archetype. Within that realm, I would struggle to even quantify those archetypes, or how they differ from whatever internal spark gives us motive for our actions.
I'm sure there are more. It makes me wonder about all the the things unknowable about the very essence of our being, the choices we made possessed only of that spark, and how it would come to influence us in the temporal theater. I should not grant myself such thoughts, but there is some comfort in death... knowing so many questions will be answered. A strange function for all of life's mysteries, but wholly acceptable. For the time being, I'll simply explore my observations with my writing and gauge the reactions of my readers. The closer I get to these truths, the more likely my written words will jive with the sensibilities of the audience.
Everyone likes the feeling that comes with having made sense of something. The confidence and mechanical reinforcement that comes with grasping all of the motes of a shining idea is like nothing else.