“We are all hollow and empty: it is not with wind and spoken sounds that we have to fill ourselves: to restore ourselves we need a substance more solid.” If we are nothing more than ever changing bits and pieces, if we lack a solid being that can be understood and fully described, then what good are the words we use to describe ourselves and the world? Is it all a vain pursuit of a hopeless quest?
One view of this is to say yes, and because of this you must seek out the things in the universe that have pure being, if in fact they exist. The alternative, however, is more noble. Like Sisyphus, we are fated to continue our hopeless quest to achieve whatever in life we proclaim most important. The value of this quest does not depend on the likelihood of success. In fact, the more difficult the quest, the more dogged the pursuit.
This path would point us towards life’s hopeless causes. We pursue a certain justice and utopias, whether well described or not, because that course of right, not because it is within our grasp. In the absence of a pure, definable being, we create our own souls and our conception of what a truly benevolent deity might look like, to each their own.