What does it mean to exist? What is the point of all the thoughts we think, the lives we live, the questions we endlessly circle? These are profoundly personal questions in the minds of anyone who looks deeply into the fabric of life. Is there a God? Is there some reason for all of this? And if not, what then? At one point in my life, I was certain there was no God, no higher purpose, nothing beyond the intricate workings of chance. But as time passed, I found myself drawn to the possibility that there might be something: a force, an essence, or simply a connection greater than my own singular existence. It’s not so much a concrete belief as much as a quiet acknowledgment that our existence itself might point to something larger.

I’ve come to find that God’s existence doesn’t fundamentally change our lives. If we could somehow prove a God exists, it would validate that life is more than just random events - there’s a greater perspective guiding every action. And, if we proved there isn’t one, it would equally highlight the sheer improbability and wonder in a universe that operates without intent. In either case, the existence of something, or nothing, matters less than the fact that we’re here, alive, pondering the very questions that seem to define our nature.

It seems to me that life itself is the reason. Whether we emerged from something or nothing, we are part of that origin. If we didn’t exist, there would be no questions, no wonder, no searching for purpose. But the fact that we do exist means there is inherently something here, some reason, even if it’s one we can’t fully grasp. Existence is the reason. It’s both the question and the answer, spiraling endlessly within itself. In a sense, spirituality is simply the recognition of this dance: it’s the way we interact with the world and the way the world shapes us in return. Even for those who see no grand design, there’s an undeniable wonder in the way life unfolds, the way we connect with others, and the way we strive to understand.

The search for meaning might be the most human thing we do, and yet, it’s not guaranteed we’ll ever find a definitive answer. Perhaps we weren’t meant to. Perhaps the purpose isn’t in solving the mystery, but in experiencing it. There’s a humility in accepting that our minds, vast as they feel, are limited in scope. We weren’t designed - if design is even the right word - to comprehend everything. We were designed to live. To question. To connect. To navigate the nuances of existence as best we can, with all its beauty and chaos. The lack of a clear, universal purpose doesn’t negate meaning; it invites us to create it.

And so, whether life’s reason is something or nothing, we live. We exist. We ask, and we connect. And in that, there’s value. There’s significance in the way we interact with the world, even if we can’t explain why it matters. If nothing else, our very presence - the ability to ask these questions, to wrestle with these thoughts - proves that there’s something worth considering. The fact that we can wonder means there’s something to wonder about. And maybe that’s enough.