The universe, I imagine, is a large pail of liquid, balancing on a tall bamboo rod in a light wind. Just enough disturbance is created to produce ripples on the surface, but never enough to topple the pail, despite the tragic fragility.
Here on earth we exist as a molecule somewhere around the middle (a bit to the left) of the pale. We think we sense the surface tension but will never actually perceive it. We humans have evolved a mental quirk called self consciousness as an animal defence mechanism and are doomed to look within, as if the ‘Answer’ lies somewhere even less significant than our place in the pail.
We float abstractly and pointlessly as the momentum generated within the universe pulls us this way and that. Again, we presume that this is our creation and believe that our community can harness some power and influence ebb and flow of the universe as a whole towards our favour.
Our greatest and most pitiful tool to manage the natural balance of the universe is a pursuit known as Design.
It’s worthwhile to marvel at the Universe – its happily absent purpose. Design is a process of playing the hand we’re dealt with incrementally greater sophistication, in the hope of tipping the balance in our favour as we hurtle towards nothingness.