It is a widely held belief, that we, as human beings, stand alone in the vast tapestry of life as the sole species — uniquely endowed with the ability to perceive and contemplate time in a manner distinctly separate from all other creatures.

Regrettably, our language and tools remain inadequate for inquiring into the minds of other species, to discern whether they harbor anxieties about the future's uncertainties or the past's alternate paths. Despite the astonishing breadth of technology at our disposal, it is a lamentable truth that we remain utterly incapable of bridging the vast communicative chasm that separates us from other animals.

When we think about how we experience time in our everyday lives, I can't help but sometimes feel a bit envious of other animals, the dog lounging on the sofa, for instance – it seems to live in what looks like an endless present.

And then there's me, ensconced at this table, proclaimed as the pinnacle of evolution. Yet, within me churns a relentless torment – not a scholarly or philosophical musing on time, but a visceral grappling with its mundane passage. It is a journey through the shadowed corridors of 'what might have been' and the fog-shrouded realms of 'what has yet to be', where the ghosts of unfulfilled yesterdays mingle with the whispers of unseen tomorrows.

I often find myself ensnared in wonderment at the peculiar capacity of humans to ruminate on the nonexistent - on events that have yet to unfold or have long since faded into the annals of time. There are those who posit that this cognitive ability of humans to envision the future, to conjure up non-existent situations, is the key factor distinguishing humans so markedly from other animals. Occasionally, I rue that it was so.

In my conversations with others, I am often regaled with stories of how they find themselves occasionally besieged by the relentless burdens and complexities life unveils. In those moments, distanced as I am from their immediate trials, it appears to me that I can discern with crystalline clarity the very crux of their tribulations. It seems within my grasp to perceive the solution, to understand the human propensity for tormenting oneself with phantoms of potential calamities, contingent upon our actions or inactions. And I have frequently espoused the philosophy that we ought to anchor ourselves more firmly in the present, to not regard our existence with such gravity, to embrace a life less encumbered by worry. This counsel, though seemingly sound, transforms into a mercurial abstraction when I attempt to apply it to my own life, an elusive mirage shimmering on the distant horizon of my existence, perpetually out of reach. I have often encountered those who, as an old companion of mine once eloquently put it, are 'overwhelmed by the abundance of scarcity.' This paradoxical state seems to be a widespread sentiment, with the prevailing belief being that an increase in wealth would magically dissolve life's myriad challenges. Yet, even among those for whom monetary scarcity is a non-issue, a similar fate of perpetual unease awaits. Whether it be the desire for greater riches or some other unnamed longing, they too are invariably ensnared in the relentless pursuit of what remains just beyond their grasp. Such is the precarious, miserable, and hollow dance of existence that we, as humans, paradoxically find ourselves partaking in, a bitter symphony of life that plays out in endless variations.

What mystic force propels us forward, kindling a relentless flame that refuses to be extinguished? Why do our spirits soar, ever longing, ever reaching for the ethereal dreams just beyond our grasp? Could it be, perchance, the shadow of mortality, that elusive specter of non-existence, which stirs within us a fear so profound, yet so enigmatic, for it dwells in realms beyond the grasp of human comprehension?

Well, we don’t know, and we never will, and this endless pondering over life's profound mysteries doesn't really move the needle in the daily grind. But here's the rub for those of us who've found this game of life more puzzling than not: we've got to figure out how to keep playing, how to dance in this absurdity, and perhaps, just perhaps, turn our existence from a mere endurance test into something resembling joy.

In the end, perhaps it's all less complex than we make it out to be. Life, much like the old tale of the donkey chasing a carrot, demands of us a goal, something to chase after, and why it is that way let’s just not ask. It's about believing there's a purpose to our every act, a reason behind our every decision. Let's commit ourselves to pursuits that ignite joy and fulfillment within us. Embrace the treasures we already possess, revel in the simplicity of peaceful moments. And amidst all this, let's pause, reflect on the sheer wonder, the inexplicable beauty of being aware. In this recognition, we might just find ourselves enamored, irrevocably in love with the very essence of existence.