The weight of Existence: Finding clarity amidst crises

Raju Korti
Since reaching my mid-life, I find myself becoming increasingly philosophical, reflecting more deeply on the nature of existence and the purpose behind everything I do. The once-straightforward path of life now feels riddled with complex questions -- questions about meaning, mortality, and my place in the universe. This growing philosophical outlook has led to moments of existential crisis, where the routines and roles I had previously found comfort in seem empty and insignificant. Sometimes meaningless.

As life progresses -- if it really does -- I often feel caught in a tug-of-war between the pursuit of purpose and the overwhelming sense of life's inherent absurdity. This shift in my perspective has forced me to confront the darker aspects of existence, leaving me more cynical more than occasionally, yet more introspective. It is a mirage that I may or may not find. I do not care either ways. But in this struggle, writing has emerged as my way of processing these thoughts, providing me with a semblance of clarity and personal meaning amidst the uncertainty.

I have been thinking too much about Existentialism and Existential Crises of late. It has occured to my limited and amateur senses that Existentialism is a philosophy that confronts the very core of human existence. It asks the most unsettling of questions: Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? Wittingly or unwittingly, these thoughts are shaping up my persona and psyche, often leaving me on the edge of doubt and cynicism. I have found myself grappling with existential crises more often than before -- times when life feels meaningless and every pursuit futile.

These crises have arrived in different forms. Sometimes, they creep in during moments of introspection, making me question the purpose of my actions and relationships. At other times, they have hit me like a storm when faced with the fleeting and ephemeral nature of life. The awareness of mortality has often weighed heavily on me, making it hard to find joy in the present or hope for the future. This constant questioning has made me cynical as I begin to see the futility of societal  structures, norms and the rat race we all are part of. The illusion of meaning we create to keep ourselves busy often feels like a farce.

However, despite the dark nature of these thoughts, they have also made me more self-aware. My personality has evolved into one that values authenticity over pretension. I have become more sensitive to the human condition. In a way, the struggle with meaninglessness has deepened my understanding of life's fleeting and transient nature, pushing me to seek moments of genuine connection and purpose. If you think this as the work of narcissistic mind, be it.

Writing has been my refuge, shelter and haven in their similar connotations. When the burden of these existential thoughts becomes too heavy, writing allows me to process, reflect, and sometimes even resolve them. Through (the act of) writing, I try to create my own meaning. Each word I exercise on the page serves as a reminder that while life's meaning may be subjective or elusive, I have the power to define or redefine it for myself, Writing gives me control over the chaos, making it an antidote to the existential despair I often feel. It helps me embrace the uncertainty, not as a burden but as a space for personal growth.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, writing has become my anchor -- a way to navigate the turbulent waters of mid-life's philosophical reawakening. In each word I find meaning even when life feels meaningless. It offers me solace, a reminder that while I may not have all the answers, I have the power to create my own. Through writing, I am learning to embrace the unknown not as something to fear but as an invitation to grow, reflect and find beauty in the search itself. As I bore in one of my earlier blogs on Quantum Physics, the travel is more intriguing and rejuvenating than  the destination.