“Why?”
Is it just….
- A word?
- A sentence?
- Or a whole question in itself?
No. For us, it’s more. It’s a test of sanity.
When Banging Your Head Isn’t Madness.
Just imagine a classic mad person banging his head against a wall.
Totally a mad person, right?
But what if he tells you why he’s doing it?
And what if his reason makes sense as well?
Would you still call him mad?
Being Human, But At What Cost?
The question of why is not just limited to being insane. It goes much deeper than that.
It’s a metric for being human as well.
As Thomas Ligotti said:
“Why” is a question no animal can ask.
So, “why” is something that makes us different from animals.
But, is this a good thing or a bad thing?
After all, many diseases are unique to humans only, especially the mental ones.
What if this constant need to ask “Why?” is just another one of those…
So… Is it a gift or a sickness?
I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.
Care to join me on the journey?
We Are Not Looking For Reasons.
This whole “why” thing sounds serious. It’s tied to sanity. To be human.
But if you look closely, there’s a funny side to it.
We keep chasing the “why” behind everything… But do we really want to know the reason behind anyone’s actions?
Not really.
What we’re really looking for is actually a feeling that we can all relate to.
Take the man banging his head against a wall.
You ask, “Why are you doing that?”
He says, “I lost all my money.”
Suddenly, you don’t call him mad. You pity him. You may even try to stop him. But calling him mad wouldn’t cross your mind.
Why?
Maybe because his behaviour now fits into something familiar. Something that we all feel. The frustration from losing money. That’s something we all get.
But think about it for a second….
Does banging your head after losing money actually make sense?
If a robot or an alien sees it, won’t it ask:
“Wait, why does the human hit his skull against a wall when he loses his money? Does it restore funds? Or maybe it helps him to erase the memory of it?”
But we don’t. We’re satisfied when the feeling clicks.
Yes, feelings. That’s the thing that we all want to know behind anyone’s actions. And once we know that, no action feels awkward.
That’s the common ground we all share.
A ground where “Why” doesn’t matter anymore. A ground that sane humans share with any other animal or a mad person.
It Just…. Feels Right.
You might think some of your choices are rational. That they’re not just about feelings.
But try this:
Take any action, literally anything, and keep asking “why” until you can’t go further.
Spoiler Alert:-
They all end in the same place: And that place is, “it just feels right”.
Let’s test it.
Why Eating?
- Why did you eat an apple?
I was hungry - Why satisfy your hunger?
That feels right.
That’s an easy one.
Physical, primal. Makes sense.
But what about something creative? Something human? Like Painting.
Why Painting?
- Why do you paint?
Because I enjoy it. - Why enjoy it?
It helps me to express myself. - Why do you want to express yourself?
I don’t know. It just feels… necessary.
Still a feeling.
Now, a twist. What if we go against our feelings?
Why Gymming?
- I feel like eating, but I go to the gym instead.
- Why?
To stay healthy. - Why stay healthy?
Feels right…
Okay, but what about the things we don’t do for ourselves?
What about our sacrifices?
Why does a Soldier Sacrifice his Life?
- A soldier dies for his country.
- Why does he do it?
To safeguard his country. - Why does he want to safeguard his country?
He loves his country. - Why would he save something that he loves?
Feels Right.
I know, it might seem like I’ve forced the answers to reach that conclusion too quickly. Like I shaped them just to make my point.
And yeah, maybe I did… a little.
But try it yourself. Pick any action. Keep asking why behind it.
If you’re being really honest, not clever, not defensive, you’ll notice:
It always ends in a feeling.
A feeling that just… feels right.
Feeling Machines
Feeling right is so natural to us, so deeply wired, that we never really question it.
Sure, we debate which feeling is right. Or what action might lead to a better one. But almost no one ever asks:
Why is feeling right… important in the first place?
It’s like training an elephant. He doesn’t know why he’s standing on two legs. He just knows:
→ Do it — get food.
→ Don’t — get the stick.
Isn’t that us, too?
Hasn’t nature played the same trick on us as well?
Eat — feel satisfied. Skip it — feel hungry.
Sleep — feel rested. Stay up — feel drained.
Sex — feel pleasure. Suppress it — feel restless.
Drink — feel full. Don’t — feel thirsty.
Exercise — feel strong. Skip it — feel weak.
(I’ve bolded out the punishments because they feel dominant.)
No reasoning. No manual. No why.
And the strangest part?
We don’t even seem to have a problem with it.
If we give so much weight to ‘WHY,’ then why don’t we apply it to the most basic things?
I think this is where we can truly feel what Antonio Damasio said:-
We are not thinking machines. We are feeling machines that think.
That elephant, he’ll live his whole life standing on command, never knowing the circus he’s a part of.
We can do the same. In fact, this is how most of us live. After all, survival doesn’t demand curiosity.
But ask yourself: Do you really want to be that elephant?
Following feelings. Avoiding pain. Chasing pleasure. And never asking what any of it is for?
I know we are a feeling machine. But hey, aren’t we a feeling machine that thinks?
The Selfish Heart
Turns out, Nature, our master, isn’t as cruel as the circus trainer.
It didn’t just give us the power to think… It left clues. Quiet little hints are scattered in our own design.
And one of them sits right at the centre of it all, our own heart.
We often say the heart keeps us alive by pumping blood. Simple enough.
But here’s something we don’t usually consider:
The heart is itself a living organ. It needs oxygen, energy, and nutrients, just like everything else. And to stay alive, it has to keep pumping.
Now, if we could hear the heart speak, maybe it would say:
“Of course, I pump blood because it feels right. That’s how I get my steady supply of oxygen and energy. Isn’t pumping obvious? Why would I wonder about it?
And those lungs and that liver? They’re not just there by chance; they’re part of the plan to keep me going.”
Don’t you think it should wonder:
“Why do I have to pump exactly?
Why did Nature build me in such a strange way…
where even pumping feels good?”
Just like the heart, we also keep pumping.
Or, we can say, keep breathing, eating, and working.
So, can we see the whole picture?
A picture where we’re just a part, not the centre.
A picture that we all know as Nature.
We, the Nature
It might sound simple, “picture ourselves as a part of Nature”.
But it isn’t.
It isn’t because we’re not used to thinking that way.
Like the heart, we also see everything from our own perspective.
For example, we say:
“Trees give us oxygen.” Not:
“We breathe out carbon dioxide for the trees.”
“Bacteria help us digest food.” Not:
“We eat, so billions of bacteria can survive inside us.”
“Fruits exist for us to eat.” Not:
“We eat them so we can scatter their seeds.”
Look around. Everything we need is here. Our waste, our bodies; Nature doesn’t just dispose of them, but grows from them.
Don’t you think something bigger than us is going on here? Something for which we are, not the other way around?
Just like the heart hasn’t evolved to beat the fastest, it has evolved to sync with the body…In the same way, we haven’t evolved to be the best. We’ve evolved to adapt best.
Once you start looking at it like this, things begin to shift. It would seem very clear that:
Just as the body isn’t the master of the heart, Nature isn’t the master of us.
Because we’re not separate from Nature.
We are Nature.
I think no one can explain it better than Alan Watts:
Just as the apple tree apples, the Earth peoples.
So, Why Feelings?
So when we ask —
“Why do we feel what we feel?”
Maybe the answer isn’t just about us.
Maybe feelings aren’t there only for our survival, but for the smooth, intelligent functioning of the whole.
They don’t just help us use the world. They let Nature use us, too.
These feelings…
These are the invisible threads that bind everything in nature.
We, the Cancer of Nature.
I know… all of this might feel hard to take in.
Because we’re no longer living in the jungle. And what we dispose of now isn’t just spit and shit that the forest can grow from.
It’s plastic. Radiation. Chemical waste.
So if humans are just a part of Nature, like an organ in a body, then how can an organ destroy the very body it belongs to?
Maybe I was being too generous with that metaphor. We’re not organs. We’re more like cells.
And not just any cells.
Cells that:
- believe they’re separate from the body,
- grow without control,
- take more than they give,
- and disrupt the system around them.
Sounds familiar?
That’s cancer. That’s what we have become for nature.
Before you think I’m just cursing humanity, here’s something worth remembering:
A cancerous cell doesn’t come from outside the body. It’s not some invader.
It’s part of the original blueprint. It’s the strategy of the body to destroy itself.
Maybe we’re the same.
So whether we’re working for Nature or against it, it’s still Nature, acting through us.
Why Nature?
Let’s pause for a moment. And see where this whole “why” journey has taken us.
We began by noticing how we treat why as the hallmark of a sane mind.
But when we followed it honestly, we found that behind every action, every choice, there’s only one thing waiting at the end:
a feeling that feels right.
Then came the elephant. How Nature, like a trainer, sets up rewards and punishments, without ever explaining why.
That led us to the heart. An analogy that showed how feeling separate can close our eyes to the very system we’re a part of.
We saw how feelings, which were answers to all the “WHY”, might not just be personal, but part of Nature’s larger design to keep itself running.
But the question of “Why” can’t stop here.
If we’re working for the trees, and the trees are working for us…
Then who, or what, is all of this working for?
In short, why Nature?
It’s like a tiny cell in our body wondering:
“What is the entire body doing this all for?”
Do you think a cell in our body could ever comprehend that the body is reading this article right now? Probably not.
But it can still make stories. And that’s what many of us have done.
Some say it’s God. (Obviously, their God.)
Others say it’s a simulation.
Or a cosmic algorithm.
Or divine energy.
Or a universal mind.
Some just shrug: “Random chances. That’s all.”
But here’s the thing,
Even if we say there’s some higher power beyond Nature… why do we stop our “Why” there?
Why not ask: “Why God?”
And no matter how imaginative you are, no matter how far your mind can reach, at some point, you’ll have to stop and say:
It just exists. No purpose. No reason. No why.
A Universe Without Reason, Except for Me
And this… this is where the domino effect begins.
If existence has no reason, then neither does the universe, nor life, nor us, nor anything that happens to us.
And deep down, maybe we already know it. We rarely ask for the reasons behind things like:
- The shape of clouds.
- The chirping of birds.
- The dust on an old book.
- The number of stars in the sky.
They don’t bother us. They feel distant. Unrelated. So we let them be.
But the moment something touches our little story, even in the smallest way, we start demanding an explanation.
- A scratch on our new car.
- A mild headache.
- A single white hair in our early 30s.
We whisper, or sometimes scream:
“Why, God?”
Because we’ve made our own life the ultimate reference point.
For us, our life must have a purpose, and not just a purpose, but a big purpose.
And if our life has a purpose, then everything that happens to us must have one too.
We don’t see the contradiction.
We’re willing to let entire galaxies exist without reason, but not a single pimple on our face.
Maybe that’s what it means to be sane. To be Human beings.
Beings that just can’t…. be.