We cling to memories as if they define us…but they really don’t….what we do is what defines us….memories are ghost images of what’s scarcely behind us in time, according to the clock. What we do in the present is the only true indicator of the person, of who we are, because it is us here right now.
What if there just absolutely isn’t any definitive answer to our angst-ridden, age-old, search for Truth!? What if we just were not meant to know, or that there simply just isn’t any answer to that immortal question? THAT, I think is the closest we will ever get to an answer, IMHO (in my humble opinion). An answer to the true meaning of life, I mean, of course. Knowing the uncertainty of it sort of makes it certain, doesn’t it?