"This does not matter. 
    What's done has always been so.
I shall tell myself this, not believe
    Like others I know."
                              Eiseley      


It's 3 AM! I'm up with the cats. They're happy to have the extra dish of 
food. I am here wondering why people do what they do. Why do we say what 
we say?

My Dad was a questioner. "Why this?" "Why that?" "How come?" It would 
drive my Mom crazy. 

His questions weren't nonsensical. They were fundamental. Why are we what 
we are? The problem is there is no answer to that question.

Oh, I know there are people out there that will give you an answer. 
Honestly, if one person had the answer, wouldn't the questioners have 
stopped asking. 

Some folks believe in a Book. Others follow the teaching of a man, a 
philosopher, or a preacher. They are willing to kill and die for these 
things. Imagine they are even willing to sacrifice their children for 
a Book or a man. I can't fathom such devotion. They believe that they have 
found the ultimate answers to the fundamental questions. 

But, the questioners are still there, asking those fundamental things.

I am a reasonably educated person. I've studied and continue to study 
history, religion, science, and philosophy. The systems of ideas  I have 
encountered along the way are fraught with weaknesses in logic and fact.  
They tell me that if I believe, I will know all the answers. 

I have faith and pray. 

When I work in my yard among the flowers, watching the bees about their 
work and the birds hunting for food, I feel contented. Things seem to fit. 
The questioning stops. There seems to be order and a sense of how things 
work.  Flowers are beautiful. Butterflies are so peaceful. Yet, I know 
that within my garden, there are horrors beyond comprehension.  

The hawk descends and culls a sparrow. 

Ants go to war with one another. 

Spiders capture flies and drain their life fluids.

We can expand this view from my garden across the world. There is such 
beauty and love. And at the same time, on the same planet, there are such 
horrors.

When I began writing this, I thought that I had an ending. It should be 
something uplifting. 

Nay!

No matter what I write to you, the fundamental questions remain, as they 
always will. It's the way it is. So, I will go about my daily chores. I 
will tend to my garden. I will photograph the beauty of the butterflies 
and birds. I will enjoy these wonders. 

Doing all of this, I will forget, temporarily, the horrors of the world, 
shrug my shoulders, and go on happily delusional. I will do that until 
another 3 AM comes around.