Evolution

I guess religion is the best evidence for the fact that evolution exists and is at work trying to keep us going. How else would we be able to survive, as individuals, and as species, were we not able to tell to ourselves the wonderful lies religion teaches?

Here is the truth: life has no meaning. Each one of us was born because our parents met and made love, because their parents met and made love, and their parents met and made love, for thousands of years. Before that we were not. After our puny three score and ten (yes, that's from the Bible, so?) years above this ground, on this earth, we will die, and we will never be again, just like, before being, for billions of years, we never were. If we are lucky, things we've done or said, or made during our lives will be remembered for a few generations, or for more generations, by some of our fellow humans. In the end though, when we pollute ourselves to death as a species, or when the next decent asteroid hits home, or when we genetically engineer a higher species than merely humans born of mother and father, or when, ultimately, the Earth dies enveloped of the fire of the dying sun, everything we ever did, or said or made will have disappeared and the rest of the universe will not know anything about our having been here, in the obscure corner of the obscure galaxy. (Assuming that everything we ever whispered will last until the Solar judgment day is so close to megalomania that it would warrant incarceration or worse.) And one so called day, the universe itself will become a very different place, if a place is what it currently is, and then everything will be truly quiet, or perhaps truly noisy. God? Perhaps there is such a thing, my model does not allow for denying his or her or its existence. Perhaps, outside the universe he or she or it sits and waits or plays with us, and with perhaps the other million forms of life evolving quietly, or not so quietly on their stupid planets. So? Other than "perhaps", what can we say of him/her/it? No, really?

So then, smart enough to know we will die, but not smart enough to be able to prevent it, or know whether preventing it is where it all is, we invented ourselves beautiful tales, about life after death. Perhaps afraid of the dreams of our recently dead, whom we missed so much, we corroborated that dream of a life after death with its own nightmarish corollaries. So? Does it make all this shibboleth any truer?