We Don't Know What We're Doing

Can we all admit we have no idea what we're doing?

I read a ton of articles about pretty much every kind of topic in a day. I read about writing, of course, but mostly I read about everything else.

I read about politicians who play out their boyhood (because they're primarily male) wet dreams in the world stage because they can, not caring who they hurt. I read about non profits trudging on, making a difference in kids' lives while chaos swirls around them. I read about the sordid lives of celebrities. I read about climate change being proven over and over again across the world. I read about the latest style trends. I read about scientific theories and discoveries and arguments over all manner of things. I read about alcohol consumption. I read about art movements and documentary films showcasing all kinds of things from the very disturbing to the utterly mundane.

I've been doing this for several weeks straight, courtesy of the ease of access to such articles through Facebook.

I've even noticed how the viral videos spread - who are early adopters and complete social media addicts while others are slow to find these things (or maybe this is a result of having certain types of friends?).

And my conclusion to all this observation?

We humans have no frickin' clue what we're doing. We're just groping around in the dark.

At first I thought it was just in publishing. I thought my own stumbling path was an isolated incident. I thought my lack of know-how with utilizing social media, my lack of resources to outsource things like editing and artwork was holding me back. I thought if I digested enough material I could figure out something and somehow cobble together the great "Alexis Solution," but I am still searching (Note: I am still holding out hope and when I do discover it, I will absolutely put it into an information product for fun and profit!).

Now I realize it isn't about publishing, but about being human. We grab on to whatever bit of truth or limited fact supports our thoughts and hold on with everything we've got. Sometimes we use correct logic. Sometimes not. Sometimes we get hyper emotional one direction or another. Occasionally this is to our detriment. Other times this makes the world a better place. Always, we stumble forward, trying to make sense of the world around us, about other people, and finally, ourselves.

This lends some truth to the idea, the very ancient idea, that we are each an expression of the Universe housed in our limited bodies. This little piece of the greater whole, reaching out, attempting to experience itself through whatever natural laws will allow. It is play. It is horror. It is glory. It is everything and nothing.

That is the nature of the universe.

Somewhere a Hindu is reading this and thinking, welcome to Brahman and Atman. Somewhere a physicist is reading this and thinking, yes. The consciousness of everyone, dumped back into that great mystery of space.

Maybe they're sitting next to one another. They look up, smile, and shake hands. I imagine the conversation starts something like this:

"Hello, fellow traveler. Tell me about your groping, stumbling, adventure through the dark."