The universe is a bizarre cosmic soup of infinite puzzlement. It is way less simple than what is presented in orthodox religion - a simple misogynist medieval conception of the world, which developed over centuries from the perspective of a handful of ignorant, hateful degenerates in the backwaters of Planet Earth.

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This is our world. It's important to us and that's what matters. There is no ultimate moral authority, no "father" in the sky looking after us who would bother telling us, or even care what I, one organism in the billions of trillions of space-time in our universe, stick my cock in, or whether I "marry" or "pray" or "swear".

We use to apply teleological thinking to everything. Fire had a purpose. Earth had a purpose. All of the elements of existence did. They would unite and attract in a heavenly, divine union - celestial fires spinning in the skies eternally. This week I had the absolute pleasure to view Ptolemy's original astrological maps in the Morgan Library, followed by an original copy of Newton's Principia Mathematica, which brought us the idea of a mechanical universe and Darwin's Origin of Species, the evolving universe - change perpetuated through rational adaption, not an overarching intelligence.

We've dropped teleology for everything natural, but humanity itself. It's time to stop asking "what is our purpose?".

Our purpose is not to be happy or make a lot of money or love or fuck or hate or worship anything. You wouldn't ask what the purpose is of a rock or a tree. We know the universe does not "think" in terms of purposes, but we do. Yet, we're a strange case since we're the only thing in all of creation that can be said to be both made through a natural process, but also stand as the product of ourselves and what we make of ourselves. The universe has no purpose for us, but we do.