The Game of 'Fetch'
In a typical game of 'fetch', the master tosses an object, typically a stick, some distance away, and the dog responds by retrieving it. Once the dog retrieves the stick and returns it to the master, a round of 'fetch' is completed and the master tosses away the stick again and again for many more rounds until he or she feels bored enough to stop. It is worth noting that typically it takes the dog much longer than the master to reach a stage of boredom in this game of fetch. In the pursuit of the stick, the dog derives utility and purpose (I assume so; it explains the pleasure they display when they chase the stick). Only when the dog realises the tediousness and the absence of intrinsic meaning of the game, arguably so, does the dog cease taking interest in the game. Such behaviour finds its analogous counterpart in the human's own pursuit of worldly goals: the accumulation of wealth, power, fame, knowledge, physical beauty, and so on...where the 'stick' for the human can take on infinite possible forms. The human, like the dog, does not at first realise the emptiness of such pursuits, until at due course some occurrence or train-of-thought leads to the human's painful realisation that such pursuits have been in vain. It is at this point that the human begins to reflect more warily about the meaning and purpose of his or her actions, and life in general. Insofar as we carry on with our lives without reflecting, we would feel that our lives have been exciting and worthwhile; but once we start reflecting and realise that we have been playing an intrinsically meaningless game of 'fetch', some of us enter into an existential crisis, and resort to various means (like religion, or simply ignoring the whole matter) of solving it.
The 'Pleasure' solution
While the comparison of the dog playing a game of fetch and the human in pursuit of worldly goals may seem to paint a pessimistic picture of the human condition, perhaps it could be seen that the game of fetch is not, on the whole, an utter waste of time. For 'fetch' yields the dog utility and perhaps a false sense of purpose, and it is hard to see how the dog would fare any better in the attainment of utility in not participating in the game of fetch. In terms of the human condition, this means that realising the hollowness of pursuing material or impermanent aims (such as vanity) need not cast us into depression, so long as we are happy with what we do. This is, of course, relying on the assumption that utility, or happiness, is the sole and final aim of living (for both the human and the dog). Neither does the idea of 'pleasure is the only thing that matters' relieve us of all our restlessness, for it gives us no good reason not to simply engage in a drunken pleasure-cruise. We want our lives to be meaningful and purposeful (for some reason), and hedonism just won't cut it; more or less, the 'fetch complex' - the existential problem - stays with us.
The Is-ought gap
Perhaps we can retrieve some comfort from David Hume's is-ought gap. The idea is that there is a gap between what is the case and what ought to be the case, and you can't infer what you ought or ought not do based on what is the case. Even if it really is so that our lifelong pursuits are like a dog's stick-chasing, intrinsically meaningless and usually in vain, that alone says nothing about whether we should keep chasing sticks, or whether we should stop. It doesn't make an actual improvement to the human condition, but at least it means we don't have to act in a different way. We don't have to become pessimists, or give up our lifelong dreams, just because we see a mirror of our own lives when we see dogs chasing down sticks in parks.
Costs of meta-thinking
From this analogy also arises the 'costs' of meta-thinking. To reflect upon the purpose and the nature of one's life, or specific actions, like the human in coming to terms that his or her life-goals are ultimately derived from the vain pursuit of nothing significant, would be an example of meta-thinking. Meta-thinking can be understood as 'thinking from the outside the framework', or self-reflection. Such meta-thinking does appear to bring along a sort of 'deeper meaning' into one's understanding and perception of life, as it did for the dog and the human. But here is the worry: the consequence of meta-thinking, regardless of whether the process is voluntary or not, is to strip the being (dog or human) of the utility and purpose that the being had been enjoying from the metaphorical game of fetch; unless the being chooses to ignore the conclusions of the meta-thought, of course. An existential crisis cripples the man, stripping him of his energy and purposefulness. At the end of the day, the question to ask is this: would the being be better off in the end had there been no engagement in any meta-thinking from start till finish? In other words, would the dog be better off playing a perpetual game of fetch, without contemplating the nature of the game itself? Is it really the case that the unexamined life is not worth living, or is it the case that 'foolishness is bliss' (糊塗是福)? Philosophers are generally inclined to agree with the former, but it's not always clear if there is always a good reason to, since we can never be sure whether knowing the truth brings us overall more pleasure or more pain.
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