You are. Miraculous, that is.

If you are reading or hearing this, you are here, alive and conscious. And that, my friends, is truly a miracle, because there is no rational explanation for it—for you.

I am thankful to have been here for so many years, to experience this strange simulation we call “life.” This is reason enough to be grateful: that we are here at all.

Come with me now: let’s take a ride.

The Mystery

If you look at all the possible “people” who could exist—DNA combination-wise—the chance that you exist is somewhere along the lines of 10^-477,000. That’s 0.0, with 477,000 more 0s after it, percent.

That means the chance of you being here, existing at all, is essentially zero. There is no mathematical possibility that you were ever born. Absorb that for a minute, and let’s go on.

If we are honest, we have to admit that we are totally clueless about where we came from, why we’re here, when and why we have to die, and where—if anywhere—we go next.

We don’t even have the faintest idea of what “we” are.

At this point, expecting humans to truly comprehend consciousness is like expecting a goldfish to understand the H2O in which it swims.

We live in a complete and perpetual state of tenebrae existentiales: existential darkness.

And yet we persevere. Something makes us think we are worth preserving. Something has imbued us with a will to survive, to perpetuate our species without even a glimmer of meaning or destiny.

I apologize if this is all making you feel a bit uneasy. I wish I could reassure you, bring you back to your usual, “What really matters is getting the oil changed and getting Suzie to soccer practice” life, but it gets weirder when we zoom out a bit.

The Wonder

As far as we know, we are alone in the universe (multiverse?), flying around in circles (more of a spiral, really) on our tiny rock. 

Actually, let’s pause here for a second: Folks love to brandish the Fermi Paradox in “Are we alone?” discussions. Here’s my take on it:

Enrico Fermi (apparently over lunch, in 1950) said something like, “If there are so many mathematically possible extraterrestrial civilizations, why haven’t we met any of them?” And many people have constructed various rationales to use this Paradox as evidence that we are alone.

I figure either A) they are as primitive as we are and so far away we haven’t yet seen each other, or B) there are very advanced universal denizens out there, but they don’t want be seen. If they are so advanced as to be able to travel interstellar distances, they can certainly “cloak” from our detection at will. Hell, I have Navy SEAL friends that you wouldn’t see either, if they didn’t want you to see them. (One of my favorite operator sayings: “If you heard the shot, you weren’t the target.”)

Anyway, back to our rock:

Our earth is just short of 8,000 miles in diameter, in a universe measured in billions of light-years, trapped in a precarious balance between centrifugal force and the gravitational pull of a small and cosmically-insignificant star.

As far as we know, everyone who has ever existed, with all of their culture and art and language and religion; all of their wars and conquests, diseases and famines, inventions and fears and celebrations—all of human history—is a product of this tiny speck of interstellar dust.

Yes, a few of us may soon be able to experience the next, redder speck of dust over. As pioneering and bold as that is, my point still stands.

(And of course it is possible we have literally “been there, done that” before, so long ago we don’t remember. But that’s the topic of a completely different discussion…)

That star—our sun—is the only reason we can exist, in our fragile, carbon-based form. If we orbited just a little closer, we would all fry. A little farther and we would all freeze. A little faster and we streak off into deep space (and freeze, among other fates); a little slower and we get sucked into the sun itself.

I don’t mean to cause you anxiety*. The sun is going to supernova someday anyway and vaporize its solar system, with us in it (if we’re still here), so no worries,

The Human Condition

At some level—instinctively, if not intellectually—we know all of this. Some form of memento mori has been in human thought much longer than written language has been available to memorialize it.

Here is the dilemma of the human condition: we are the only animal smart enough to realize we are finite, yet not nearly smart enough to comprehend what that really means.

So we look to “the heavens” to ease our existential angst. The concept of “something bigger” at once informs our highest purpose and gives us comfort in the vastness of our ignorance and isolation.

We are meaning-making creatures. If we can’t immediately discern “the meaning” of something, we will make one up. And the more profound the event (like us being here), the grander our “because,” no matter how contrived.

Thus is born all the superstitions and religions of all of humanity. Can’t explain it? Attribute it to God (or gods).

Let’s not go down the culturally and historically destructive rabbit hole of “Which God?” Pick the one that most resonates with you (from your culture or—hopefully—your reasoned thought).

Me? It doesn’t really matter what I think—you have to decide for yourself; don’t be swayed—but I believe that the fact it is so mathematically impossible that we exist at all (discussed briefly above), that the idea of some sort of creator is the least likely to dull Occam’s razor. And yes, I’m familiar with the atheist’s “deep-time” exegesis (or more likely, eisegesis).

And I believe that this likely but unknown—perhaps unknowable, in our present form—creative force is intelligent and that we can communicate with it. A very crude communication, not unlike a hamster communing with its owner.

“Belief” is the key term here: Such matters, being wholly unfalsifiable, are by necessity relegated to “hope” and “faith” and “belief,” because we can’t “know” in any veridical, scientific sense.

The Choice

But you do you! (This is a crucial point, not limited to matters of creation, but, well…of everything!)

If you have taken anything from this (admittedly bizarre) discussion it should be this: You are impossibly, irreproducibly, inexplicably unique.

We are conditioned from our earliest days to conform. Dress like everyone else, stand in line with everyone else, go to school and get a job and take vacations and retire like everyone else.

Part of this is conventional wisdom, designed to enhance your survival. Act too weirdly and you won’t be employed and might get locked up. Part is designed to keep you docile and easily controlled. (At this point we could segue into the Controlled Substances Act of 1970, but you either already know about it, or you can look it up. In either case, you will see how it fits what I am saying.)

But, while it may be in your best interest to act like others in some ways, you are free to think in ways that reflect your own quirky, authentic, individual self. In fact, you cannot do anything else; no matter how hard you try to be someone else, that role is already taken. You can only be yourself.

You have the absolute, inalienable right to be whatever you can—and want—to be.

So how do you best proceed? How should you conduct your infinitesimally brief but so-improbable-it-must-mean-something existence? 

You are, of course, free to do anything of which you are capable, but I think there are two better answers. The first is that we—humanity, our species, the world—need your uniqueness. Not a clone of someone else, destined to provide the same tired thoughts from the same hackneyed line of thought.

Second, you are already informed by an instinct that is intrinsic to you (provided that you are free from certain types of sociopathic psychopathy):

Your emotions are an actionable, moral compass to help you—literally at a “gut” level—decide what path your life should take at any given moment.

This isn’t necessarily just “if it feels good, do it,” but in a world where you can be anything you want, at least part of what you choose to be should include compassion. 

There’s a reason we instinctively want to shelter an abandoned puppy, or save a drowning bird. Our heart “goes out” to abused children. This is not an instinct we had to learn, it is built in. And it is there for a reason. Lose it on pain of losing your humanity.

In other words, while you are choosing your purpose (for that is really what we are talking about), let it be rooted in compassion. Add whatever you want from there. A sustainable sense of purpose always includes others.

Miraculous

So be unapologetically you, and be kind. Everything else should come from your wild and free imagination; your heart, mind, soul and muse.

You are a miracle. That you can read or hear this is a miracle. The fact that I can pull ideas out my head and put them into yours is a miracle. Look around, right now: everything you can see and imagine is miraculous. All of this is cause for great gratitude, optimism and celebration!

So, in your incredibly brief and mysterious existence, stop worrying about whatever it is you worry about.

Use that energy instead to construct your mindset such that you choose a purpose that will allow you to create your world.

How, exactly, do you do that? Stay tuned; there is much to be discussed.



*Get my FREE guide, Five Ways to Calm Anxiety NOW! at JeffWWelsh.com (or just click this link)!


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- JWW