Why?
You may have entered this letter at a point that isn’t the beginning.
If you landed here directly, please start at the beginning.
. . .
Edgar Allan Poe, in The Purloined Letter, tells the story of a crucial letter hidden in the most obvious place. Everyone searches in secret compartments, locked drawers, concealed spaces. No one looks at the letter sitting right there, in plain sight, on the table.
Sometimes the most important truths are like that — so fundamental to our experience that they become invisible.
The philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty wrote about the “lived body” — the pre-reflective experience of being in the world, so basic that we rarely pay attention to it. We don’t think about how to walk; we simply walk. We don’t think about how to see; we simply see.
And — crucially — we don’t think about how to feel; we simply feel.
But here is the point: just because something is fundamental does not mean it is trivial. In fact, it can be exactly the opposite. Many of the most important discoveries in science involve finally recognizing something that had always been there, quietly operating in the background, but never seen clearly.
When Newton “discovered” gravity, it wasn’t because gravity didn’t exist before. It was because he saw something that had always been present, shaping every moment of human existence. When Darwin understood evolution, it wasn’t because species hadn’t evolved before. It was because he perceived a pattern that had always been at work but had never been fully recognized.
In the same way, feeling has always been operating in your life.
It is operating right now, as you read these words.
It was operating when you woke up this morning, when you drank your coffee, when you chose what to wear.
It will be operating when you fall asleep tonight, and when you wake again tomorrow.
Why is this the rule? Why are we programmed to feel?
That is the great, ultimate question — the “why” humanity has reached for since the dawn of consciousness.
And the truth is: we do not know.
We have only speculations, many wrapped in religious texts, each offering its own narrative and set of answers.
In Hinduism, for example, the belief in reincarnation is central. One life is not enough to evolve, learn, and transcend; the soul cycles through births and deaths, purifying karma until it reaches moksha. Life is a stage for the soul’s refinement across lifetimes.
In Buddhism, desire is the root of suffering. To reach inner peace — nirvana — one must detach from cravings and worldly wants. The idea is simple: want things consciously, knowing that wanting will hurt.
But let’s be realistic: not wanting anything is impossible. It is not in our nature.
We want. We want comfort, safety, love, joy, knowledge — sometimes just a good cup of coffee in the morning. Desire is an intrinsic part of the experience of feeling, a primary driver.
Maybe the question of why this rule exists is one of those questions we were never meant to answer.
When you look at a car, you understand what it’s for, and therefore why it exists. It was built for a specific purpose: to transport people and cargo from one place to another, with speed and safety.
When you look at a refrigerator, you instantly understand its purpose: to keep food and drinks cold.
Now pause.
Look at your own body and examine, rationally, what it is for.
How does this biological machine operate?
What are its primary functions?
What was this biological machine designed to do?
The answer is so simple it borders on shocking: your body exists solely to feel.
Maybe the why behind this rule is not for us to uncover.
Maybe discovering why we exist to feel is too disruptive — something capable of cracking the very structure of how we understand reality.
But one thing is certain and undeniable:
- This rule is absolute.
- It is not optional.
- You cannot choose to ignore it.
- You cannot take a day off from it.
- You cannot stop feeling.
You will feel everything for your entire life — whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not.
The ache of grief, the joy of accomplishment, the taste of food, the flutter of anticipation before something new — everything is a feeling experience.
And you will make decisions based on those feelings constantly, consciously or not.
The rule has always been here, like the air we breathe.
We are not aware of breathing every moment, but we can stop and notice it when we choose to.
We can become conscious of that vital process. In the same way, we can become conscious of the fundamental rule that governs our existence.
But what would the philosophers, faith, and religion have to say about all this?
