Pointless things happen in this world, and it leads me to think sometimes that there is not Purpose --only the ability to bring together three pillars of sanity, if the self is to survive: faith in His reason, ability of self-consolation and making the best out of what happened, and intense, conscious abhorrence of both. The dominance of the first produces a religious man (profession and exercise of belief); the second results to a typical human being, helplessly trapped in the vagaries of blessings and blight; and the third, the Übermensch.
In less philosophical terms, I'd just like to say I feel terribly saddened today. My dog has just been ran over by a car. I don't know how the maxim "everything has a purpose" would hold water given the tremendous number of incidences where purpose seems ex-post facto to me, and most oftentimes remain unrevealed till this very moment. To be a 'purpose', it must be a fuel to an end; otherwise, if it exists after the end has been achieved, then it becomes a justification, a mere sour-graping, an unadulterated consolation for a loss or defeat. Yes, I am a believer, and perhaps random stuff that has happened seemingly without reason does not negate His object and purpose. And because of this theistic concession, there is only a thing left to do, something I always do: become a typical human being who is smashed and disoriented everytime in waves of blessings and curse, of happiness and despair, for what can I do and think more? They say that those who cling on exclusively around the third pillar are nihilists and go to hell. Or maybe, those are the brave, new men and women.
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