Why Are We Here?

When a child is born, it is common to bestow blessings. Many world cultures have rituals for newborn babies, such as baptisms and bris.

A former monk and teacher I once knew by the name of Nissim Amon once told me that in Zen cultures, a common blessing to bestow is what is known as the "three essential pillars" that will bring enlightenment:

"May you have great faith,

May you have great courage,

May you have the Great Question"

In the best and the worst of times, it comforts me that these concepts are so universal. And I want to focus on the third and last one.

Even if you have nothing to do with Zen, meditation, faith, religion, or spirituality - still I gamble that you would love to know why you were born. The whole world over, people of all walks of life contend with this question, one way or another. It is as if this question is etched into the blueprint of the human experience, even for atheists. Books, poems, movies, and countless works of art have been devoted to the Great Question. Granted, there are people who do not ask it literally of themselves - but they still search for meaning in their lives. There are things that fill their soul, and others that feel empty.

This is not a coincidence, and it should not be overlooked.

But what then, is the answer?

And what, in all honesty, as Douglas Adams joked - though not in vain - is the question?

Regardless of what we do or do not believe in, we have been created - by God or by circumstance - with a drive to understand who we are, and why we are here. And in order to truly understand this question, we need to track it to its source - the drive itself.

Do you know whom you will love, when you are born?

No, but you know what love is, deep in your soul. You feel it - you feel the drive. And if you follow it, you will find your lover. You do not follow it because you know where it will take you, what the journey will be like, or what you'll learn along the way; but because it is in the marrow of your bones to follow. If you do not, you will be empty and miserable. There will be something missing, all the days of your life.

The Great Question is the same: You do not follow it because it's etched in dark, explicit ink words on the appendix to your birth certificate, that was issued by the government, with clear instructions on what you should be doing every day and as you age. I wonder - what would life be like if it were that precise? Not very adventurous, I wager.

We follow the Great Question because we have to; because if we don't, we're empty. To understand what the question is is to feel it in your bones, and follow. To ask it - that is the question itself.

I play flutes. Some years ago, I took it upon myself to learn a particular technique on the Ney (pictured above), in which two notes are created simultaneously. It is called the "Kaba", the lower octave of the Ney. The only catch was that I had no idea how to do it, or where even to start. And I had no teacher.

To be fair: Many world cultures do not exactly teach the mechanical techniques of their instruments; much of folk music is learned through trial and error, with the teacher being a kind of guru: One who provides inspiration, and sets an example of "what things should sound like" when they are well-baked. So I wager that I wasn't all that far from the traditional way of learning to begin with. 

But how to do the baking?

I just played. I played every day, for a year. And I simply wanted to get that sound. And over time, I began to notice subtle nuances in my tone, that I could tap into and exaggerate. There was a breath of air beneath the tone - I could blow into it and make it louder. In time, it became a bass note of its own. Over the course of a year, I learned to make it louder still. And today, some five or six years down the line, I know how it's done (and let's be clear: I am still learning).

And so, to follow the drive is to ask the question, in the most explicit way that it can be asked. To quote an old cowboy I once grew up around: Just close your eyes, and go.

And what, then, is the answer?

The answer is similar: To know the answer is to embody it; to feel connected; to be clean of your obstructions, so that you feel your own being with full clarity - that is the answer. That is the goal, though I would call it more of a direction: We do not reach an end-point in the literal sense, but more of an understanding. We reach a place of natural harmony, where we feel at one with who we are, and what we are meant to do. 

And we need to continue to cultivate this harmony, to remember who we are so that we do not become distracted. It is very much like cleaning out your flute, every day, and blowing through it.

Because, although we may think of ourselves as beings, we are, in fact, more like portals. And it is in our nature to wish to be passed through by the wonders of the universe; to be played, like a reed. And if we clean ourselves, we become more and more playable - and thus, more and more in tune with who we really are, and why we are here.

Play well. The universe is listening.

Image by Wix.