Why I Write.

Sometimes, I don't know why things happen. There are painful experiences, and my own actions often leave me with regret. I don’t understand the “why” of my existence. For some reason, that understanding has been set just beyond my reach. But even in ignorance—maybe despite it—something about the human experience calls out to me. There's something that tells us our experiences matter. Some people call that thing God. Perhaps it is me in an alternate dimension. Or myself in the future. Or the past.

It feels like I'm being guided along a tightrope, and any wrong move will send me into the depths of nothingness—out of existence. But it's not the vastness of possibilities that holds my attention, it's the one guiding me.

The challenge is, I don't get this feeling very often. There are only a few moments each year when I feel the universe calling me. And I wonder what it means. Is it important? Should I chase it? I ask because I spend the other 99% of my time chasing the things of modern life: a career, money, video games, adventures with friends, holidays with family, etc. Then, in those rare moments, everything stands still, and I wonder what it's all for. What is the purpose of technology? Why is humanity building it? What is our purpose?

I have more questions than answers, but I hope that writing my thoughts regularly will help me find those answers someday—or at least contribute meaningfully to the search for purpose. Stories often pull me out of the busyness of life. From Interstellar to Kung Fu Panda, why are stories so impactful? Why do we crave to experience other realities? What is so powerful about a story that it’s the one, maybe the only, thing that can make us stop for a moment and forget our own lives?

It’s when I reflect on these moments that I write. For some reason, no matter what else is going on, I start writing. These moments are so overwhelming that I feel, deep in my soul, there cannot be anything more important I could be doing than writing my thoughts.