I was listening to some music… and marveling at the utter perfection of it… where one wouldn’t want to change anything… not even a note or a nuance. Somehow the piece seemed complete in itself, not needing anything more… not requiring anything less.
Somewhere during this time, I wondered about this music. For what reason did the creator create it? Except for the sheer pleasure of creating it? Except for the utter need to express what was emerging inside of him. There might have been angst, joy, wonder .. that might have triggered the expression… but it still remained a creation that could not have been any other, or any other way… its perfection lay not just in the technical beauty of the creation, but in being the complete expression of the creator of himself at that point.
If a few notes were to be dropped would it make a difference? Not really. Maybe not at all. Yet somehow their dropping out might disturb the completeness of that expression or rather the expression could be complete only because of the presence of those notes – the way they were, where they were.
The point of our existence perhaps is the same. Meaningless, if taken alone… yet a complete necessity if it was taken as a part of the whole… our life contributing to the completeness of the symphony expressed by the Universe – at that particular moment, in that particular way. It could not be any other, or any other way.