(This is continued from a previous post.)

The first inkling I remember that maybe ‘having a purpose’ may not be the be-all, end-all of a human’s life came a year or so ago while I was reading James Lovelock’s book, Gaia.

First some background. I have a handful of guiding principles that inform my beliefs and values. One of the strongest is that humans are not fundamentally different from animals – we evolved on the same planet from the same materials under the same processes. Therefore, we cannot be the only ones who have emotions, or the only ones who have a soul, or the only ones who … .

Using this principle, I have filtered out of my life a variety of religious traditions, authors, philosophical works and other things. But for some reason, the notion that my life needed a purpose persisted; it just didn’t register that by requiring my life to fulfill some purpose I was maintaining an instance of human exceptionalism.

Then I read Gaia. For whatever reason, while reading Lovelock’s thorough description of how complex chemical interactions of atmospheric gases, microbes, and more have resulted in a biosphere that appears to be unique in the solar system, I realized that it is arrogant of me to conceive that I might have a ‘purpose.’ And now that I’m attempting to recall and record my thought processes, I see an inherent paradox that I came to view my ‘need’ for a purpose as arrogant as I was simultaneously understanding that ‘mere microbes’ make life on this planet possible through their metabolic processes alone, not through any conscious pursuit of purpose on their part.

I was confronting my arrogance and starting to loosen my grip on the need to fulfill a purpose in life when I found out about Mark Rowlands’ book, The philosopher and the wolf. (I’m going to abbreviate this title as PAW.)

I first read a library copy of PAW in early December – I read it cover to cover in two or three days. I found it so thought-provoking I knew I would want to read it repeatedly, so I asked “Santa” for a copy for Christmas. Santa delivered. It sat on my nightstand for several weeks. I wanted to make sure I had time to leisurely make my way through it and cogitate on it thoroughly, or so I told myself.

A few days ago, I picked it up and started reading it again and realized the real reason I had delayed reading it a second time. It’s difficult to read. But the difficulty isn’t the usual failing of the author to organize his thoughts coherently, or the tendency of academics to use language and sentence structures that seek to impress rather than inform.

It’s difficult because it’s a deeply emotional story.
It’s difficult because, as Rowlands says, “it took me a long time to think these thoughts” and even though his thoughts are clearly elucidated, it takes this reader a long time to “think” the thoughts he has presented.
And finally, it’s especially difficult because in telling the story of what his wolf brother, Brenin, taught him, Rowlands presents to the reader the disturbing truth about what does make humans exceptional. It’s undeniable, and it ain’t pretty.

So, I am now reading PAW again, this time taking more time to absorb the sentences and paragraphs. Rowlands studied academic philosophy for years so I don’t have to, and he has carefully chosen and placed concepts from classical through contemporary philosophers to make a tapestry woven of vivid images of his days with Brenin, embellished with threads of profound meaning.

A concept I learned from Rowlands that is pertinent to my main point here is from medieval philosophers: sub specie aeternitatis – under the gaze of eternity. Under the gaze of eternity, for instance, humans are little more than a bump and I am a tiny speck. There is a lot to explore in this concept. The first thought that probably came to my mind is the depressing notion that my life is inconsequential.

However, the main impact this concept has had on me is a complete release of pressure to achieve and make something of my life.

I have finally let go of the need to fulfill a purpose.