What I have defined as a destination is most often the place I just happened to end up at. And where I just happen to end up at is not a destination in any sense of any word that I know. Rather, it is a life never lived because it was a life never planned.

Life is not random, for randomness is simply purpose that we’ve yet to discern.

If we are merely a chance product of ‘random happenstance’ and nothing more, doesn’t it strike you as a bit odd that we have the ability to contemplate the question of ‘random happenstance’ with such methodical complexity?

My answers are typically ‘guesses’ cleverly disguised as answers.