Are we "the universe experiencing itself?"

 Carl Sagan and others popularized the idea that we are made of the same elements as the stars. The notion has taken hold that we are the universe waking up. It sounds beautiful. It makes sense.

We may be the only sentient life, or we may be but one species, with others perched on their own vantage points to observe and analyze what's around them.

All of our worst traits come from that same cosmic menu of forces. There's creation and light, destruction and darkness. The universe itself is not eternal. As far as we know right now, it will die one day. Thus, if it is really only now achieving self awareness, it is coming to grips with its own mortality. It's using our tiny brains in our ephemeral bodies to tug at the threads and try to unravel the mystery of its own existence. We don't exist in the the universe. We are the universe's thoughts and emotions. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, bitterness, resentment, yearning, love, appreciation, gratitude -- we feel all of these things on behalf of the sentient cosmos. It is not wise. It is not all powerful. It's just an immense, sprawling, nearly infinite poor schmuck wondering why they're here at all, and whom to blame for it.

The pain and fear may drive it to want self-annihilation. It can't kill itself outright, but it can destroy its ability to sense and think: us. Our fate depends on whether the universe manages to become well adjusted or fails at self-help.

Where does free will fit into this? I don't know if the universe has it, but if it does, it acts through our collective agency. We are the brains of the outfit. Our fate lies in our hands, but it lies in all of those hands and hearts and minds and the decisions we make to perpetuate our existence or end it and end all pain with it. End everything but an existence no longer witnessed by the helpless, horrified mind obsessed with all that is sad, bad, and doomed. Stars will still dance, black holes consume, weather sweep across a planet no longer burdened with what we have liked to call intelligent life.

Some form of life would probably survive our self-annihilation. Perhaps these survivors would evolve into the next iteration of inescapable consciousness for our poor schmuck of a universe. Over and over it evolves thought, suffers for it, and stamps itself out, until at last the energy flow reaches its far point and collapses in again to restart the whole cycle from a concentrated core.

Pleasant dreams, everyone.