Might it be us?

The only thing I can state with certainty – that is, the eye in me that states uncertainly – about the human condition, which might help to alleviate those terrible fits of nihilism that (im)mature contemplation is inclined to produce, is this:

Just as one could reasonably regard consciousness as the inevitable and occasional product of complexity, or maybe an essential quanta that dyes the very fabric of reality, there is a very real possibility that the fruit of all physical reality, the very purpose of all the laws and processes in this infinitely grand, undulating, spiraling, throbbing, vibrating, and swarming mass of particles, planets, and galaxies is, in fact, the emergence of sentience – embodied self-descriptions of All Things.

We might be the fulfillment of a majestic primal unity that forever seeks to know, recognize, and wonder about itself.

The cell is self-contained and self-preserving, yet essential to a greatness beyond its narrow horizons.

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