A big question without a definite answer.
And humans dislike mystery. We might like mystery in entertainment. Does the totem topple or is Cobb still stuck in a dream?
But we tend to be uncomfortable with mystery when it comes to the big questions about life, like its meaning.
I think the whole consciousness thing made us that way. From our first footsteps, humans have been meaning-making machines.
And I think science, for all its achievements, has made us overconfident, even arrogant, about our understanding of the universe, existential or otherwise.
And so, this big, mysterious question has been attempted by everyone from philosophers to religious teachers. Scientists to Daryl in Accounting.
Confucius, the father of Eastern philosophy, taught meaning through lifelong self-improvement and relationships with other humans leading to harmony within society and the greater universe.
Aristotle believed that eudaimonia, or a type of permanent joy and fulfillment attained by a life well-lived, was the ultimate aim.
Thomas Aquinas, one of the most influential people in the Christian faith, believed the telos of humans was happiness which came through understanding God.
Legendary physicist Richard Feynman said about the meaning of life, “If we take everything into account, not only what the ancients knew, but all of what we know today that they didn’t know, then I think that we must frankly admit that we do not know. But, in admitting this, we have probably found the open channel.”
Daryl rightfully finds meaning in assets equal to liabilities plus equities.
As for me? I’m not sure there is a meaning.
And I’m not sure there isn’t.
If there is a greater meaning, I would guess it’s beyond our limits of comprehension. Maybe not. Maybe we’re responsible for making our own meaning.
The point being, I don’t know. And I don’t know that it matters.
I’m alive now. Against all odds. For a cosmic second.
That’s reason to celebrate.
Whether you’re 19 or 99, you can embrace the timeless wisdom of my personal favorite philosopher:
“What day is it?” asked Pooh.
“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
“My favorite day,” said Pooh.”