One of literature's longest running gags is the question: what is the meaning of life? Such a broad question can elicit multitudes of answers ranging from seriously life-altering to cheeky. In either case, whenever it is asked, it is never in serious fashion.
But before we can even begin to answer such questions, we must first unpack it. Before we ask what "life" means, let's figure out what "life" is.
So what is life? It's a very interesting thing. I look at it as one giant amorphous blob that can encompass everything. It's a different beast for everyone. It can be amazing, tragic, sad, and wonderful. It is filled with disconnects, leaps of logic, and coincidences. When you think about how our lives intersect with our families, friends, and strangers, it's rather amazing--even crazier, it's also droll. Life can go from dull in one moment to insane the next.
The reason why the meaning of life is such a running gag is because we can hardly define what life even is.
This past week has been eye-opening for me. Sometimes you never know what lurks underneath a smiling exterior. It makes me appreciate the blessed life I lead.
As much as I hate David Henry Thoreau, he was on to something when it came to life. To live simply is simply the best way to live. There's no need for deception, half-truths, or justifications.
Be as you are and enjoy it.
