There are really only two ways, it seems to me, in which we can think about our existence here on Earth. We either agree with Macbeth that life is nothing more than a 'tale told by an idiot,' a purposeless emergence of life-forms including the clever, greedy, selfish, and unfortunate species that we call homo sapiens - the 'evolutionary goof.' Or we believe that, as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin put it, 'There is something afoot in the universe, something that looks like gestation and birth.' In other words, a plan, a purpose to it all.
acrylic on canvas