What is the purpose of life? What happens when the shimmering of life no longer catches our eye, and a question of our existence is upon our conscious? Is the purpose of life to reach another post-physical life, an afterlife? Does life have a cosmic purpose, or is my life really futile? Will I exist with the final beat of my heart, or will mankind find an end with the death of our universe; does one live and die and nothing changes? Does living amount to nothing; is it meaningless? These are all questions that people pose about the meaningless world they live in and they use many excuses to justify their being here.
The purpose of human life is an unanswerable question. It seems impossible to find an answer because we don't know where to begin looking or who to ask. Existence, to us, seems to be something imposed upon us by an unknown force. There is no apparent meaning to it, and yet we suffer as a result of it. People try to impose meaning on life through pattern and purposes to distract themselves from the fact that our situation is unfathomable. Waiting for Godot is a play written by Samuel Beckett that captures this feeling and view of the world. According to the play, a human being's life is totally dependant on chance, and by extension, time is meaningless; therefore, a humans life is also meaningless, and the realization of this drives humans to rely on outside forces, which may be real or not, for order and direction. The basic premise of the play is that chance is the factor behind existence. The world of Waiting for Godot is one without any meaningful pattern, which symbolizes chaos as the dominating force in the world. There is no orderly sequence of events. A tree which was barren one day is covered with leaves the next. The two tramps return to the same place every day to wait for Godot. No one can remember exactly what happened the day before. Night falls instantly, and Godot never comes.
