Truth: The Servant of DNA.

Out of the nothingness. A string of 250 proteins or so, a few amino acids strung together in a cup of water, swirling around, fraternizing, flirting with life. From this single celled organism springs an organism which propagates its own DNA to the next generation. This generation begets, another, begets another. Out random genetic mutation arises phenotypic traits which enhance the organisms chances of survival given the climate, the environment, and the surrounding organisms. This organism flourishes and grows, mutating, surviving, propagating.

It's reason for being, if it were conscious enough to understand, would be to continue this dance with DNA throughout the millennia, focusing all of its non-conscious efforts on surviving the winter and passing on its genes to the next generation.

Other species interact with it and it either fights of flies, depending on whatever will continue its survival, or perhaps, it will coexists symbiotically, sensing the mutual benefits of such a relationship. The organism grows in complexity through the eons, developing sensing organs, more intricate reproduction, an Olympic gene pool, and one day it becomes conscious of itself: that it exists. It congregates into community and herds for protection.

Strong instinctual drives crystallize into emotional categories which dictate actions.

Herds of creatures develop corporate norms which function to increase the propagation of the species and satisfy the evolution-generated need of comfort and freedom from anxiety. These creatures evolve to semi-transcendence, to be able to ponder their place int he universe. Born out of instinctual drives is the need to understand the surrounding world, to discover its origins and its destiny. They develop a common framework of social interactions and order to survive as a species, to relay their DNA to the next generation. They talk of things like "truth" and "absolutes" and beliefs of origins coalesce into worldviews.

But the even paced pulse throughout all of time is the incessant staccato drum beat of propagation, unchanging in its rhythm or tone. Since when did this life become something more? Are not all of our attempts to superimpose meaning or truth over this monochromatic tapestry a mere churlish pretense? And what does this say of our beliefs in our origins, or in our sciences or our observations about the world? What rubric are we to use to understand these if not the rubric of propagation? All that matters is this, not truth, not science, not religion or love. They only matter as accompanying dissonance to the metronome of propagation.

Naturalistic evolution shoots itself in the foot; indeed the very belief is built on a foundation that betrays all that is built on it. The purpose of our faculties is to promote survival and so we ought to assume any conclusion these faculties bring us to are to work to that end. Even our belief that science could lead us to the truth, or that there is a truth at all. This insidious presence lies like carrion in the heart of evolution. Rotting.

the meaning of life, as I can see it from this, is to propagate. So it doesn't so much matter what the truth is or what i believe: this has no ultimate meaning, only to the end it helps my species continue on meandering down the road of existence, albeit a bleak and ultimately pointless one that most likely will dead end at the death of our sun. What I know to be the truth might as well be some phrase by the Caterpillar,

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe",

so long as it serves the end of my species continuing.

Truth is the servant of DNA.