Sometimes, when I am riding along a long stretch of straight road and nature recedes, my mind drifts. The (DMN) takes over. The “default mode network’ activates when we’re not concentrating on a task, replaying past regrets, or imagining future scenarios. This helped our ancestors anticipate where the saber-toothed tiger might be hiding, but now it shows up as rumination or distraction.
Research shows the brain wanders about half the time when not engaged. This adaptation helped us survive in the past, but today it often feels like a curse. Our brains are wired for survival, and the ‘default mode network’ (DMN) activates when you’re not focused, like when you’re just pedaling down a dirt road.
A pheasant flushed from the roadside cover and snapped me out of my (DMN) daydream. My ruminations on the dirt road circled back to a favorite question. “Why am I here?” The same circuitry that once helped us survive saber-toothed tigers now demands a story for everything, including life itself. Religion and philosophy see life as a quest for salvation, enlightenment, or self-fulfillment, turning existence into a narrative with a “happily ever after” that’s always just out of reach.
“Even the smallest shift in perspective can bring about the greatest healing.” ― Joshua Kai
Happily Ever After
Many philosophers have explored the question of “Why am I here?” and “happily ever after,” but have come up empty. Maybe it’s not about looking for the meaning of life, but about the act of looking itself. Wisdom traditions stress the importance of being present and fully experiencing each moment. Still, most of society seems to lack this understanding, constantly chasing a specific outcome or trying to shape their experiences to fit their expectations.
Mortality is probably the biggest reason why humans continue to question the “meaning of life.” We know we’re going to die. This awareness turns existence into a ticking clock. While enjoyment is possible, the knowledge that it ends sparks a reflexive search for something beyond the finish line, like purpose, legacy, or heaven.
I believe it might be possible to live in unreflective bliss—like children, mystics, or the occasional crazy guy on a bike. But for most people, unexamined joy feels fragile, as if it could be taken away in the next crisis. The same consciousness that lets you taste wine, fall in love, or laugh until your sides hurt also allows you to ask, “What does it all mean?”
Presence is a Muscle
We’ve been conditioned to seek, want, and desire; it’s embedded in our society. Consumerism relies on dissatisfaction: ads, social media, and productivity culture tell us we’re incomplete without the next gadget, achievement, or experience. We’ve been socialized into a “having” mindset, focused on acquiring things and status, rather than a “being” mindset, which emphasizes presence.
“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” ― Epicurus
Breaking free from this feels challenging because it’s against the cultural norm—society tends to associate stillness with laziness or failure. The ego also plays a significant role. The feeling of “I” as a separate self wants to keep the status quo and stay in control, so staying in the present moment challenges that illusion. Desires often stem from a wish to avoid discomfort.
The mind resists being present because it disrupts the ego’s story. Engaging in activities like shopping, scrolling, or philosophizing serves as a way to cope, distracting us from our feelings and emotions. Presence isn’t a realization; it’s a muscle. Meditation, breathwork, and exercise rewire the brain over time.
“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” ~ Viktor Frankl
So when questions emerge from the void: Why am I here? What is the meaning of life? Where will the Saber-Toothed Tiger attack from? I direct my attention to observing, not searching for answers—watching a leaf fall, a hawk soar in the sky, or a sunrise. Paradoxically, fighting the wandering mind makes it worse. Notice the mind’s seeking without judgment.