This may sound both like the musings of a mental patient and/or highly wanky (as we like to say in Britain) so there's that preface, but:
some years ago I had what I now see was a sort of existential crisis. I couldn't see the point of anything because, clearly there is none. This is the human condition. Realizing that seemed like peering into a deep dark hole at the time. I gave this some serious thought and decided that while there is no point as such to our consciousness, what made existence seem magical to me again was our ability to appreciate beauty (not necessarily physical, I mean in every respect). That appreciation also links to the other part of what makes life seem like a worthwhile pursuit: Our ability to make and communicate through art, whatever form that may take. I wish I could remember where I read a quote on this subject so I could recall it correctly but it goes something like, 'when all else is gone, art is the footprint that remains of humanity'. I'm butchering the wording, but hopefully someone sees what I'm on about. That and kindness - a form of beauty of course, but specifically, the receipt of kindness in its pure form is a reason for anyone to find faith in living.
I know, it's wanky, you were warned.
