Materialism.

I was reading for my Intro to Philosophy course, and I came across the definition for materialism (also known as behaviorism, mechanism, and reductionism).  The definition is:

"Belief that everything is composed of matter (and energy) and can be explained by physical laws, that all human activity can be understood as the natural behavior of matter according to mechanical laws, and that thinking is merely a complex form of behaving: The body is a fleshy machine."

This definition defines my beliefs.  I think humans are here because there were a set of conditions that just happened to have been met.  We are nothing more than organic debris shoved together to create what we call a "sentient" being.  Simply because we know we exist, and we know the universe exists, does not mean we have some special place in the universe.

If you compare us to some animals, those we do not define as sentient, there is no difference.  We are made up of the same organic bits and pieces that they are.  We have progressed beyond the consciousness of animals due to the power of the human mind, but this does not make us any different.

As I read about past philosopher's search for the reason for being, I find the search useless.  There is no "reason for being," there is no "defined purpose" for humans.  Cogito, ergo sum - yes, I think, therefore I am, but do not animals also think?  Are there not things that are here that do not think?  Are they a part of a holographic world that only exists because our senses tell us they do?  Is there no real existence for those things that do not think?

I don't believe so.  The world is reality as we define it, based on our senses.  Saying the world is not here is a contradiction - you sense the world, therefore the world is real.  Whether the world is really "real" or not does not matter, to us it has existence, which is all we can say about anything in this universe.  If we say the universe is not real, then we deny everything else that we have said was real.  Nothing can be defined anymore, there is no certainty.  

The universe we observe follows specific physical laws.  As does the functioning of our bodies, and the functioning of our minds.  The mind is not the "soul" - the mind is the brain, an organ meant to supply us with the skills necessary to live.  The brain monitors our bodily functions, and provides the means for us to explore our existence.  While the brain does amazing things, it is just a combination of organic compounds that functions to keep us alive.  If the brain functions to keep us alive, then can we not say that the brain provides the questions about our existence and reasons for being because we need those sorts of questions to keep us alive?  Would humans not be surviving without these questions?  Is philosophy just another act of the brain to keep us alive and functioning?

I find is easier to go through every day without worrying about my "purpose," my "meaning."  If I worry about such things, I find a strong depression within me.  If there's some meaning to my life, what is it?  What is the point of my existence, why am I struggling through life?  The simple, and most comforting answer to these questions, is there is no point.  There isn't a defined path for me, there isn't a particular "reason" for my existence.  My struggles and my life are my own, there's no reason for them in the universe.  I am who I am, there is no definition of "me" and no path that I must stick to.  There is no plan for me, I have nothing to live up to.  I am here, functioning, living, observing - my thoughts may be passed down and I may live forever, but maybe not.  I don't feel bad about not living forever if there's no point to our existence.  If the memory of me fades, that's perfectly fine - I wasn't here to do anything anyway.

Life is filled with complexities, experiences, feelings.  These are all just organic functioning of our brain, keeping us alive and happy.  Even if we are unhappy, the fact that we are able to even decide how we feel keeps us alive.  The brain acts to keep us alive, that's it.  A fleshy organ meant for nothing more.