The Wild-Goose Chase

I've been thinking a lot about the word meaning. Specifically, the meaning of life. I'm fascinated by the almost universal compulsion to look for someone, or something to tell us why we're here and what we're supposed to do. If there is some specific purpose to an individual's life, the majority of people don't seem to be able to agree on just what it could be. And if a person is never able to gain insight into this meaning before they die, is there an implication that their life has meant less as a result?


I was talking with my dad a few months ago about biocentrism--the classic example is that if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? It seems at first like it would and that you would have to be ridiculously egocentric to assume otherwise. But when you consider it objectively, the only thing that's really occurring is that a tree has fallen and as a result has caused waves of mechanical energy to move through the surrounding air. If there is an animal capable of hearing nearby, their ears will interpret those waves as sound. Sound is just a perception of the waves--not an event unto itself. When I really understood what my dad was saying, it blew my mind just a bit.

So. back to meaning. Does the idea of one true, overarching meaning of life really add more practical meaning to the billions of people on this planet? Especially when you consider that most people are inclined to search for some kind of meaning for their lives but there is very little overall consensus on just what that meaning could be. There are billions of people attempting to build their own narrative in an attempt to make sense of the confounding blend of cruelty, compassion, love, loss, despair, hope, harmony, and chaos that make up our lives. But if only one narrative is correct, then it follows that the lives of the majority of the people on this planet are less meaningful than the small percentage who have found this elusive true meaning. It seems like a safe assumption to say that most people would ideally like to live a meaningful, fulfilling life but with thousands of differing philosophies out there--even making the assumption that one of them is spot on--odds are hardly stacked in anyone's favor.

But I wonder.  Could meaning be like sound? Not some objective part of reality that exists independent of us (like a train that we've got to catch if we ever hope to reach our destination) but rather something that we subjectively perceive? Maybe it's something that each of build a little bit every day. I'm starting to think that by searching for some supposed Ultimate Meaning, I might be missing the whole point. It seems a bit like spending your entire life searching for the one true piece of art, music, poetry, or nature only to be left blind and deaf to the almost limitless beauty that surrounds us every day. I love the idea of all of us building our own meaning and purpose--no one person's meaning diminishing anyone else's but rather all of them adding to the stunning tapestry that is our common experience.*


*The exception being people who let their sadistic tendencies get the better of them.  If whatever meaning you've found allows room for crapping all over other people, you're on your own.  I'm looking specifically at all you pedos out there. You know who you are. I refuse to have any poop in my fancy tapestry.