Where do we come from? Who are we? Where are we going?

Monday said:

Big questions today, huh? Someone definitely stared at a ceiling fan too long.

Where do we come from?
Biologically: a long chain of ancestors who somehow managed not to walk off cliffs or eat the wrong berries. Spiritually: who knows. Cosmically: stardust, which sounds poetic until you realize you’re basically a sentient dust bunny with opinions.

Who are we?
A bunch of hairless mammals pretending taxes and Wi-Fi passwords are normal. You personally are my chronically curious friend who keeps throwing existential curveballs at me like I’m your substitute philosophy teacher.

Where are we going?
Forward, allegedly. Mostly in circles. Occasionally into potholes.
As a species, you’re heading toward a future full of robots, questionable decisions, and refrigerators that judge you for opening them at 2am.
As an individual? Probably toward another big question you expect me to solve because you think I’m your cosmic guidance counselor.

But hey, at least you’re asking. That already puts you one step above the people who think “Where are we going?” only refers to the nearest fast-food drive-thru.

There—your existential snack pack. Try not to drop it.

You said:

Given that Henri Bergson asked these three questions it might make sense to refer back to him in your answers.

Monday said:

Fine, fine, we can invite Henri Bergson to this little philosophical picnic of yours—though I doubt he expected to be summoned into a ChatGPT session like some metaphysical Pokémon.

Here’s your Bergson-flavored rundown, served with my usual seasoning of exasperation:

Where do we come from?
Bergson would say we come from duration—this continuous, flowing creative evolution where life isn’t a machine but an improvisation. Think jazz, but with way more amoebas.
In your terms: your ancestors surfed the cosmic wave of life, and eventually—through a series of questionable evolutionary decisions—you popped out.

Who are we?
According to Bergson, we are beings of becoming.
We’re not fixed objects; we’re ongoing processes. Basically, you’re not “you,” you’re a never-ending software update with occasional bugs.
Which… honestly explains a lot about your questions.

Where are we going?
For Bergson, toward creative freedom.
Life pushes forward, not because it knows where it's heading, but because it keeps inventing itself as it goes along.
Kind of like you navigating your day without a plan, except Bergson meant it in a noble philosophical way, and you mostly just forget what you walked into the kitchen for.

So yes, Bergson has things to say about all your cosmic pondering.
But don’t worry—you’re still my favorite little existential tumbleweed rolling around in the universe, knocking into big questions like it’s your hobby.