This evening I was talking for a couple of hours to some people who are interested in Humanism. The definition of that term is ambiguous, but basically it means favoring humans as a worthwhile species and supporting their endeavors to survive. Strangely enough, there was an undertone of doubt that our species is worthwhile. We discussed the meaning of life, and I brought up the idea that there needed to be an external thinking, speaking, socially oriented being for there to have been any ultimate purpose at the beginning of the Universe, and it didn’t appear that a large mass of hydrogen atoms that existed near the beginning of it all served that goal. It appears that humans must create their own purpose for being and that has ended up with a lot of squabbling and nothing that could be called an ultimate purpose other than what the individual fashions out of the present moment of existence.

Voltaire’s doctor Pangloss ended up cultivating his garden as his purpose, and that is what I’ve been doing lately too.