What is the most important question for our time?
(Einstein said it was, in his:
Is this a friendly universe or not?)
My childhood Jeff Lowe, whom we called Coconut due to the feeling of hollowness inside his skull, in fifth grade transmitted to me my first Zen koan (existential conundrum), which I have never really satisfactorily answered:
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
What is authenticity, really, and what is true and real?
What do I really want and need?
Am I lacking anything?
Why am I dissatisfied?
Why is my satisfaction so fleeting
And dissatisfaction arise so quickly
And last so long?
Where does my true happiness truly lie?
Is this the most direct way to it?
How to love and be love(d)?
Who am I, really,
And why am I here?
What is my purpose?
Is there meaning?
Why do we die?
What is all this, in essence?
Who am I really,
Why am I here?
How to truly know.
What am I doing,
Am I just a word,
and the word is with,
and the word is was.