Lately i been going through ups and down and i can hear people telling me: “You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
So i often have a daydream that suddenly the meaning of life is been already discovered by someone who went through some difficult situation in their lives, a book is made or an interview by a major television network is done. Soon, word gets around.
Did you hear? someone asks me, they discovered the meaning of life. Perhaps it’s my mother telling me long-distance on the phone.
“Yes,“ I say, a little sorry I didn’t discover it myself. Already, as I lean back in my chair and drop my pen on my desk, I imagine for those of us farther away, the news comes as a relief, as if our greatest concern was not what the meaning of life was, but whether there was one at all. “So what is it?” I ask, rearranging the ideas piling on my mind, Who hasn’t thought about the meaning of life? I used to have a great little book about it; in a handful of short chapters, the author argued that there wasn’t “a” meaning of life. Instead, he said, the challenge was to live a meaningful life. A friend borrowed it and I soon lost touch with him, though last I heard he was drinking again. I always meant to replace the book, but never did. When I was traveling in south of Europe, I concluded that the meaning of life is to search for it, because it’s that search that leads you into situations and places that allow you to question your life and find meaning in it. more than the fact that there’s an explanation for this loneliness, these spells of boredom and frustration at the world. That’s usually as far as I take the daydream.