Nothing inherently has meaning or significance. These are qualities given to things by people. Life only has a meaning if you give it one.
Sounds very existentialist to me?
At the moment I'd say that's the right view to take. If you want to be cynical then you can say that there is no purpose to life, and everything we encounter in our lives is an illusion, a sort of order created by humans. I ecountered this section from the novel Nausea yesterday:
And then, all of a sudden, there it was, as clear as day: existence had suddenly unveiled itself. It had lost its harmless appearance as an abstract category: it was the very stuff of things, that root was steeped in existence. Or rather the root, the park gates, the bench, the sparse grass on the lawn, all that had vanished; the diversity of things, their individuality, was only an appearance, a veneer. This veneer had melted, leaving soft monstrous masses, in disorder naked with a frightening, obscene nakedness.
In my opinion that passage describes existence very well. We only glimpse a sort of layer of what existence really is; we can only percieve a slice of the electromagnetic spectrum with our own eyes, for example; gravity is another constant we consider essential to our everyday experiences and helps define what everyday life is yet it is just a number resulting from the mass of the Earth.
I think the way you should look at existence therefore is not as a soft mass of matter, but to indulge yourself in the concepts that man percieves and creates; concepts such as objects with edges, or speech, or music, all of these kinds of things. Just because there is no universal meaning inherent in them, it does not mean that we cannot create meaning which is just as valid. Once you stop asking the mute universe for the answer and instead create the answers for yourself, life does have purpose.
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