From the time I was very young, I have often pondered the question: What is it all about?
Since I am made up of the atoms from an exploding star, am I merely nothing more than the Universe struggling to make sense of itself? Are all of us extensions of the vastness of creation experiencing itself consciously?
Why is there anything?
These thoughts often occur to me before my morning coffee and fade away into the shallowness of my daily existence before I take them on again each night before I fall asleep.