Why Get Out of Bed?

Nice thing about abandoning any supernatural beliefs: you get to decide for yourself every morning what the meaning of life is. Mostly it's exactly the same as before, i. e. participation in H. Sapiens Sapiens' ongoing attempt to fight entropy uphill for a time. But sometimes it's special--sometimes the meaning of life is spending all day preparing a meal for the members of one's immediate tribe, sometimes it's letting your selfish muse lock you in a tiny room for 12 hours in search of the lost chord. 

There are infinitely more ways for things to go wrong in the maintenance of life (human or otherwise) than for things to go right. The universe (substitute Mother Nature here if you wish) doesn't really care if you live or die, and definitely has the deck stacked against you. 

What then binds all us language-enabled primates together? Well, if you have ever experienced any aspect of physical pain at all, you are likely part of the huge volunteer army trying to eliminate, mitigate, or palliate suffering; or at the very least you can offer a sympathetic hand and loving eye to those experiencing the crueler bits of existence. It's worth getting out of bed for.  That and dogs, of course.

Who's a good boy?

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