Many before me have asked themselves what the meaning of life is; or somewhat more important to the individual, “what is the meaning of my life?”
Odds are this is not a breakthrough epiphany, especially coming from the typing fingers of a seventeen-year-old woman, but the meaning of life revolves around the prospect of happiness. Pay no mind to pleasing others, regardless of who they are; parents, teachers, policemen, friends, the community. As selfish and egotistic as it may sound, life, your life, revolves around yourself. You are the protagonist to your own life’s story, not the sidekick. Who else is to call the shots if not yourself? Sure, initially parents or institutions are to decide between black and white, but at the end of the day you are alone with the things you have done.
As I lay here on the living room couch before the gift-less Christmas tree, the looming of foreign expectations abandons me. I am, much like at the end of every night in that moment when my head rests on the pillow in half-consciousness, relieved of every expectation and responsibility. This is because of that final minute of leisure where there is nothing I can possibly do to save the world from its myriad of problems. I can close my eyes and breathe in without choking on the socioeconomic pollution that drowns the society I live in; I can feel the safety of a mattress and blankets enveloping me in the most ethereal of ways. In that moment, I am free. I am happy. I have found meaning in triviality.
It is not about meaninglessness, nor is it about meaning; it is about happiness. What brings one joy… Whether it’s dancing or writing or teaching or picking up garbage or being a stay-at-home dad. When your head rests on that mattress you want to find fulfillment at the moment of contact. Bliss in its purest form can be found in the quaintest of places; from a wet spider web to a sunset at the peak of the Pyrenees’s. A life of meaning only holds true when one has reached the pinnacle of the self; the moment when you can be alone without regrets, with satisfaction; when friction no longer causes a burn in the pit of your stomach.
As it’s commonly said, “money can’t buy happiness”, well that may not be applicable to all. Perhaps some find comfort in the sustainment of material goods and wealth, perhaps they reach their personal level of enjoyment on the mere purchase of a car or a new purse. It is not for us to determine what makes others happy, as it holds no regard to our own happiness. As long as our fellow man isn’t in harm’s way with our happiness, why should we have the boldness to interfere? There is no calling for anyone to interfere, to care, to hold others back. As a wise song sings “heaven’s not a place that you go when you die, it’s that moment in life when you actually feel alive”.
We owe no one a chance at life but ourselves. One does what one can where one is. Misery and happiness hold a thin line, divided solely on the desire to stay true to one’s search of meaning, of bliss. Perhaps the saying “follow your bliss” roots from here…
Odds are this is not a breakthrough epiphany, especially coming from the typing fingers of a seventeen-year-old woman, but the meaning of life revolves around the prospect of happiness. Pay no mind to pleasing others, regardless of who they are; parents, teachers, policemen, friends, the community. As selfish and egotistic as it may sound, life, your life, revolves around yourself. You are the protagonist to your own life’s story, not the sidekick. Who else is to call the shots if not yourself? Sure, initially parents or institutions are to decide between black and white, but at the end of the day you are alone with the things you have done.
As I lay here on the living room couch before the gift-less Christmas tree, the looming of foreign expectations abandons me. I am, much like at the end of every night in that moment when my head rests on the pillow in half-consciousness, relieved of every expectation and responsibility. This is because of that final minute of leisure where there is nothing I can possibly do to save the world from its myriad of problems. I can close my eyes and breathe in without choking on the socioeconomic pollution that drowns the society I live in; I can feel the safety of a mattress and blankets enveloping me in the most ethereal of ways. In that moment, I am free. I am happy. I have found meaning in triviality.
It is not about meaninglessness, nor is it about meaning; it is about happiness. What brings one joy… Whether it’s dancing or writing or teaching or picking up garbage or being a stay-at-home dad. When your head rests on that mattress you want to find fulfillment at the moment of contact. Bliss in its purest form can be found in the quaintest of places; from a wet spider web to a sunset at the peak of the Pyrenees’s. A life of meaning only holds true when one has reached the pinnacle of the self; the moment when you can be alone without regrets, with satisfaction; when friction no longer causes a burn in the pit of your stomach.
As it’s commonly said, “money can’t buy happiness”, well that may not be applicable to all. Perhaps some find comfort in the sustainment of material goods and wealth, perhaps they reach their personal level of enjoyment on the mere purchase of a car or a new purse. It is not for us to determine what makes others happy, as it holds no regard to our own happiness. As long as our fellow man isn’t in harm’s way with our happiness, why should we have the boldness to interfere? There is no calling for anyone to interfere, to care, to hold others back. As a wise song sings “heaven’s not a place that you go when you die, it’s that moment in life when you actually feel alive”.
We owe no one a chance at life but ourselves. One does what one can where one is. Misery and happiness hold a thin line, divided solely on the desire to stay true to one’s search of meaning, of bliss. Perhaps the saying “follow your bliss” roots from here…
Greetings from the Realms of Existentialism,
What's Her Face
