Humanity is, and has always been at a crossroads whereby the awareness of the futility of our lives continuously grows as time passes. What I mean by this is that throughout the natural course of life, it becomes quickly apparent that we are temporal beings etching out for ourselves an existence that is likely futile for the sake of living. Mankind does not often reflect enough on just how savage the world around us truly is. Though there is beauty to be found in the song of a bird, that same animal is predatory in nature and possesses those traits which would seem to be destructive.
Charles Darwin, in his eponymous work The Origin of Species, puts it thusly: ÒWe behold the face of nature bright with gladness, we often see superabundance of food; we do not see, or we forget, that the birds which are idly singing round us mostly live on insects or seeds, and are thus constantly destroying life; or we forget how largely these songsters, or their eggs, or their nestlings, are destroyed by birds and beasts of prey; we do not always bear in mind, that, though food may be now superabundant, it is not so at all seasons of each recurring year.Ó
There is always a sense of the limited nature of resources, as well as of our nature. Our ability to utilize the will, limited though it is, is one example among many of the futility of human existence. This is not to say that certain philosophies cannot find something worthy in human life, but when focusing on the void of the conceptualization of the eternal, it becomes apparent that we are extremely insignificant in the grand scheme of things.