It was June of 2017 and I was 450 miles into a 2,000-mile bike ride down the west coast. It was pouring rain and I was alone, curled up in my tent. I was writing in my journal—working on a sort of poem—when these fours words assembled on my page.
“Life is like a glass vase on a wobbly table while 6 year olds play tag around it. Once accident, strife, vengeance, or infirmity, and its all over. The vase shatters. Time is limited, so what’s your purpose Kory, your contribution, why do you exist?”
I repeated it again in my head…why do you exist?
It had a ring to it. I loved it.
I loved it because I didn't ask to get born—but I'm here now—wondering what I should do with my existence...?
So, I unzipped my tent. Laying below the rain fly was my blank surfboard bag. I maneuvered the board inside and spent the next two hours writing the phrase in sharpie. And just like that, my life was changed forever.
I spent the next 50 days biking on the Pacific Coast Highway while this surfboard bag asked every person that passed, this question.
And now its asking you.
So, Why do you exist?
Let me know email@example.com