A thought became apparent to me the past few months it was that: "the sense of a man's curiosity is the beginning of inquisitive inquiries (redundancy with emphasis on man's curious nature). Then man begins to wonder if he's larger than the world he's known." We tend to wonder about the vastness of life beyond our own borders, or wonder what it would be like to live a different life, or to be placed out of our element: what we had become accustomed to. We adventure in these ideals and maybe even dream about the pleasantries of a much more simpler life and maybe how that life would move us to where we want to be in it.

We are curious about the many things that would delight us, the many things that would bring some form of joy or contentment. I realize that the threshold for understanding some form of personal truth in principle and action is to somehow fulfill this longing to be, "happy." In the woes of this desire, our dreams somehow fall either too short to fulfill or too far to even continue to fathom. I notice a sense in me that admires those who dare to do what they've dreamed, and how they came to chase that dream. I think about who I am right now in my life and what has been the driving force in my life to attain certain short term "goals," and how the somewhat discontentment with the normalcy life seems to eventually have becomes more and more mundane as time passes through my comprehension of it. I am left with a tired notion of wanting more; or wanting some form of freedom from the things that hold me; or to be rejuvenated to continue on with living this life.

I think our life is more than the past and present, I believe life is more that the finite future our physical bodies uphold and the eventual decomposition of it. I do not associate my body with these longings to do, or to succeed in "life." The body, the brain moreover, seem to just be vessels of the mind and heart; essentially the soul of a person. I find myself again and again becoming tired both physically and emotionally about living and the strife it takes to just exist. Rest is something we do to restore our bodies; then again, our metaphysical souls need some sort of rest, some form of rejuvenation. The temporal satisfaction of the body isn't sufficient for the longings of the soul. As we choose to grasp tangible physical pleasures out of these things or people, there will always be this void that the soul cannot seem to appease.

It's a curiosity to me of how a person can say that they are truly at peace with their life. It begs the question on how is life worth living, and what is the purpose of life? There's a paradox that I've encountered in the phrase, "live life to the fullest," which is how are we to live our life to the fullest when we do not know the foreseeable future of the extent of our life in order to measure the "fullness" of it.

As I do believe that man was created by God as is everything in existence, I believe that only God can restore the most dreary of souls. We can expand the vast expanse of our minds and comprehend the world in ways we could not have imagined, or find someone to love with all our heart, we could devote our bodies to causes that seem to be for a greater good. In the end there's always this seeming singularity among people of wanting to have purpose for their souls. I think that in the end a person is likely to be content in two ways:
  1. Not being able to fulfill the longings of his soul and accepting it, and his mortality as the eventuality of any given physical life.
  2. Giving this so called "life" truly to God.
In either case, man is still fallible, but I offer these assumptions based off the common man's longing for purpose over himself. I definitely hope to be of the latter.