Uncertainty

The causes in the world are difficult to get a handle upon.
The uncertainty of it all, what happened, what is the one cause of any of it, is a problem I find of exceeding difficulty as I travel upon my own ambitious road of inquest.
The farther I reach in, the muddier the causation, the greater the pointing towards a monadic cause.
How deeply it goes, I am not sure. The uncertainty in me though is rising.
I feel it at most times, as the breadth of subjectivity towards causes becomes more and more illuminated.
Though it is not all encompassing existentialism that is the effect of begetting a clearer understanding of the complexity of life, but a sublime appreciation for the aspects of complexity discovered as much in themselves as one can.
Realizing, for example, that the uncertainty I am feeling is analogous to the uncertainty in the most basic properties of our existence, has a deep resonance. When I take the deepest insight into account of where I am at the present moment, do I then truly have an idea of where I am going, and vice versa.
How does the world relate to me and I to it? At what point do I measure the causes of events in myself and the world? What is the purpose of this inquiry, if any at all?
I view this world and life as beautiful and special, yet meaningless, yet important.

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