Why are our brief and imperfect lives central to the narrative or morality, choice and consequence?

 

I believe that there are realms of good and evil as is evidenced by the world we live in. When thinking about this realm, I'm left with more questions that answers. 

Why are the big realms of good and evil slugging it out for the souls, the hearts and souls of mankind? Why are we the meat in that sandwich? Little old us. Flawed us. Imperfect us. Why is that about us?

These questions strike at the very core of human existence and the mystery of our place in the cosmos. For centuries, myths, religions, and philosophies have depicted human life as the arena where forces beyond comprehension wage their eternal struggle. Yet, here we are fragile, inconsistent, imperfect and somehow, we are in the middle of it. The idea that the universe’s ultimate battle hinges on people like you and me is bewildering.

At first glance, it seems absurd. Look around: we are weak, fallible, and often incapable of living up to our own ideals. Our world is riddled with conflict, injustice, greed, and suffering. If we are truly the prize, one might wonder why such a flawed species would command the attention of forces so vast and abstract. And yet, perhaps it is precisely because of our imperfection that we matter so much. In the grand theater of existence, our choices and our struggles with morality, courage, and compassion carry weight because they reflect the potential for transformation.

Consider the human heart. Despite its frailties, it is capable of profound love, extraordinary empathy, and selfless sacrifice. Our minds, though prone to error and bias, can innovate, reason, and dream in ways that no other known creature can. And our spirits, though often fragile and wavering, possess a resilience that has endured famine, war, oppression, and despair. Maybe it is in these paradoxes our simultaneous weakness and strength that the cosmic forces find significance. Humans, in all our imperfection, embody the tension between creation and destruction, light and shadow, that defines existence itself.

It is easy, however, to feel cynical about this. In the midst of daily struggle, of personal failure, of watching injustice unfold with seeming impunity, it is tempting to conclude that the story of good versus evil is too grand, too mythic, too big for little old us. The news is full of evidence that we are often powerless. Systems fail, leaders betray trust, and even those with the best intentions can be corrupted. Our bodies age and weaken, our minds stumble, our spirits falter. In reality, the notion that we are central to some cosmic drama can feel absurd, almost cruel, a narrative that exaggerates our significance while highlighting our vulnerabilities.

And yet, perhaps that is precisely the point. Good and evil, if they exist beyond the human imagination, may not seek us for our perfection. They may seek us because of our potential. Every act of courage, every gesture of kindness, every decision to resist wrongdoing is a ripple that extends far beyond what we can see. In this view, the human experience, the messy, flawed, contradictory life we live is not a weakness; it is the stage upon which the drama unfolds. The meat in the sandwich is not a trivial prize to be consumed, but a living canvas upon which the forces of the universe test, reflect, and manifest their influence.

There is also a psychological truth to this metaphor. Humans are uniquely aware of morality, capable of reflecting on choices in ways no other creature is. We feel guilt, pride, remorse, and joy. We understand right and wrong, and we wrestle with it daily. This self-consciousness, the ability to recognize and choose between good and evil is perhaps what makes us significant. If cosmic forces exist, maybe they are not as interested in controlling us as in engaging with us, challenging us, and, through us, enacting the eternal struggle in tangible, observable ways. In other words, we are the stage not because we are inherently special, but because we are the ones who can witness, choose, and respond.

Yet, even with this reflection, no easy answers emerge. Perhaps part of the existential tension is accepting that significance does not guarantee comfort. Being central to a cosmic narrative does not mean we are shielded from pain, error, or disappointment. Rather, it may mean that our experiences our triumphs and failures, joys and sufferings carry a weight that is both terrifying and profound. The fact that we are flawed does not diminish our relevance; it defines it. Our imperfection is what makes the drama of good and evil meaningful, for if the prize were perfect, the struggle would be irrelevant.

In a world that often feels overwhelming, where noise drowns out reflection and chaos obscures purpose, this question hits hard. It reminds us that the stakes are simultaneously enormous and intimately personal. We are tiny in the cosmic sense, yet capable of acts that resonate far beyond ourselves. Our lives, brief and imperfect as they may be, are central to the narrative of morality, choice, and consequence. Perhaps that is both our burden and our gift.

So, are we really the prize in some eternal war between good and evil? Maybe. Maybe not in the literal, dramatic sense. Perhaps the story is too vast for us to comprehend fully, and perhaps we will never know the true scope of the forces at play. But in the only way we can ever truly know through our choices, our actions, and our reflections, we are significant. Our frailty makes our courage remarkable, our failure makes our redemption meaningful, and our imperfection makes the struggle of good versus evil tangible.

In the end, the answer may not matter. The deeper truth lies in living with the awareness that, small as we are, our lives intersect with forces greater than ourselves. We may be the meat in the sandwich, but we are also the hands, the minds, and the hearts that determine how that sandwich is eaten or resisted. In our flaws, we find the paradoxical power to matter, to influence, and to reflect the eternal battle that, whether real or symbolic, shapes the world.