"Think fast, think ahead", is all one hears as one paces through every hour of every day of one's life. Right from the friendly advice from the nears and dears, to the news of achievements and failures, to the evolutionary struggle to survive. The subjective nature of meaning notwithstanding, every piece of stimulus one receives seems to, directly or indirectly, worship Prometheus.
And yes there is enough value in the suggestion as well, and undeniably so. What would life reduce to without a care for future consequence? Some would argue the world has been on one such blaze for a while now, but that's another story. Providence and wisdom, among the most treasured values known to (the common?) man today, spring eternally from the lodestar that is foresight.
But.
What is one to say of foresight, in the absence of meaning? We assume a certain fabric on which foresight lends direction and order. But we don't question that fabric?
Who is the 'I' in 'I will look ahead and act responsibly'? And more pointedly, what prevents said 'I' from just wanting to watch the world burn?
Even primal to being a 'social animal', man is a 'thinking animal'. And for most of humanity, that opens an inexorable thirst for meaning. Meaning not necessarily in the elevated/ self-actualization sense, but even at the level of having a storyline to live by.
Where does that storyline come from?
As much as one looks to the future to decide on the present, one draws from the past to construct a sense of coherent reality. One's identity is shaped as much by one's memories, if not more, as by future aspirations. One could also argue that the road to one's aspirations is paved with the bricks of one's past, leading right up to the present. Yes, the present that just went past.
Love, caring, dependence, community... the fruits from Epimetheus' garden vary in shape and size. He may appear foolish in the light of his brother, but what is life without being open to possibilities? Each turn is an invitation to open a box, and he took his chance. To be alive is to be open to hurt. To love at all is to be vulnerable.
Epimetheus, his ordinariness and simplicity notwithstanding, is thus more than just the hapless brother to a brilliant titan. He is in fact, his father. Without him, the observer that seeks to live, progress and thrive, ceases to exist. He is the life in our otherwise minuscule, insignificant, fleeting existence.
Carl Gustav Jung said, "As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being."
The candle that burns away slowly in the darkness of our mere being, is Epimetheus.
And yes there is enough value in the suggestion as well, and undeniably so. What would life reduce to without a care for future consequence? Some would argue the world has been on one such blaze for a while now, but that's another story. Providence and wisdom, among the most treasured values known to (the common?) man today, spring eternally from the lodestar that is foresight.
But.
What is one to say of foresight, in the absence of meaning? We assume a certain fabric on which foresight lends direction and order. But we don't question that fabric?
Who is the 'I' in 'I will look ahead and act responsibly'? And more pointedly, what prevents said 'I' from just wanting to watch the world burn?
Even primal to being a 'social animal', man is a 'thinking animal'. And for most of humanity, that opens an inexorable thirst for meaning. Meaning not necessarily in the elevated/ self-actualization sense, but even at the level of having a storyline to live by.
Where does that storyline come from?
As much as one looks to the future to decide on the present, one draws from the past to construct a sense of coherent reality. One's identity is shaped as much by one's memories, if not more, as by future aspirations. One could also argue that the road to one's aspirations is paved with the bricks of one's past, leading right up to the present. Yes, the present that just went past.
Love, caring, dependence, community... the fruits from Epimetheus' garden vary in shape and size. He may appear foolish in the light of his brother, but what is life without being open to possibilities? Each turn is an invitation to open a box, and he took his chance. To be alive is to be open to hurt. To love at all is to be vulnerable.
Epimetheus, his ordinariness and simplicity notwithstanding, is thus more than just the hapless brother to a brilliant titan. He is in fact, his father. Without him, the observer that seeks to live, progress and thrive, ceases to exist. He is the life in our otherwise minuscule, insignificant, fleeting existence.
Carl Gustav Jung said, "As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being."
The candle that burns away slowly in the darkness of our mere being, is Epimetheus.
