Making Meaning Out of Thin-Planet-Earth-Air
Ever since I can remember, I’ve been searching for meaning. Meaning of what–I can’t quite say. Just something. And if you think about it, everyone is searching for meaning in their own way. We as human beings are scared to death at the thought that perhaps, it all actually doesn’t mean anything. That everything we do in this life just disappears after we die, and that we disappear along with it. Death is so final to us that is can’t possibly be ‘final.’ And so we search endlessly. For some, meaning is simple: hot chamomile tea in bed is warrant enough for the term, while for others, hot tea turns to ash in their mouths. If one can find no meaning to life, no meaning to being a conscious, thinking being here on planet Earth, then said bitter ‘one’ is a silent menace, a walking threat to humanity. For one without purpose has no care for those with purpose, because one without purpose lacks capacity for care itself.
What makes meaning for me? Thinking about the nature of meaning…thinking about the ways that things work and the ways that things think they work. Learning new things and using this new knowledge encounter the world in a way I wouldn’t have been able to before prior to said new knowledge. Finding meaning in others’ meaning. Being aware of one’s own quest for meaning signifies that this quest may ultimately be realized; the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a mirage after all.