I’ve been meaning to write about this for a year.
It occurred to me that when people ask the big questions about life and come up empty, there may be one of two things going on: either the answer to the question is the question itself (see below), or we’re asking the wrong question.
For me, thinking is a recreational activity – sure I have to do it every day, like walking – but often my idea of a good time is just sitting around thinking about something for hours at a time. I look forward to thinking the way some people look forward to vacations. Despite that, the biggee question that everyone asks never really interested me all that much: What is the meaning of life?
It always seemed like a dumb question to me. What is the meaning of life? Who cares? It’s whatever you say it is. Leave me alone, I’m busy thinking about paradox and intellectual maturity, humanism, and what I would put on if there was some kind of emergency and I had to rush to a hospital in the next five minutes.
Anyway, I think we’re probably asking the wrong question. Rather than asking the question “What is the meaning of life?,” as in “What is the purpose of living?,” a more compelling question is “What is the meaning of life,” as in “What is it that gives life meaning?” Read that way, the answer is obvious: death. Life has meaning because it ends. One thing must be chosen instead of another thing because we’ve only got a certain amount of time. Therefore, the things which are chosen tell us about ourselves. Infinite life with infinite possibilities and outcomes would tell us nothing about who we are, because we would be everything. Yet, ultimately, a meaningful life of fullest experience is lived as if everything is possible and our opportunities are endless, not to mention all of those religions supposedly give life meaning by promising eternal life, with which life would have no meaning. Yay, paradox!
Paradox is endlessly fascinating. The meaning of life is death, we individuate to become part of the whole, the answer to the question is the question itself, and for some reason, I think that if I had to leave my house in a big hurry to go to a hospital, I would be compelled to put on sneakers, even though I usually wear sneakers only to the gym and not as part of my regular wardrobe, unless I am going on some kind of trip that could involve a long walk.
But I could be wrong.
