Stirring Point

When we talk about our meaning as individuals, it’s common to reach beyond ourselves for an explanation. We reason that meaning and purpose are too important not to be imbued with something bigger—something divine. While this is possible, it’s also viable that we’re the offspring of an indifferent cosmic goo. Jarring? I suspect so. The concept that we’re only here to survive until we reproduce, then raise our children to do the same, well, stings. Our existence ceases to matter beyond the point of procreation? Bleak, I know. 

Our beliefs inform a parade of thoughts, but our meaning is most pressing. At least a billion voices diverge on this topic. When narrowing down the “meaning of life” within the Abrahamic religions, we end up with something like this: To worship/glorify/serve God while living a moral life informed by the Torah, the Koran or the Bible. Of course, that’s not how most believers live because real life is a sloppy, tangled mess of complexity. But if your plane of meaning lands on this tarmac, then consider this piece a thought experiment.

Regardless of your spiritual bent, try for a moment to suspend your belief. Maybe it’s too deep and too rooted. Maybe it feels like a betrayal of your faith. It shouldn’t. Infallible convictions are the breath of dogmas, and testing dogmas should not be taboo. If you can engage this idea, then imagine your existence as an accident of the universe. This may sound biologically dismissive, but there’s no claim here that nature is haphazard. Instead, the idea purports that life is the result of random chance, not deliberate design. Nature’s magic is no less majestic. It’s the lack of intent we’re calling into question. 

If the above is true—that our lives are not the outcome of purposeful, intelligent design—then the meaning of our lives beyond procreation is our own construct. We’re born into a biological world with predetermined genetic coding. Add to it the stimuli we encounter in a complex world, and soon, patterns take shape. A river of innate coding, authoritative guidance and direct experiences sculpt our morals. These details build a perspective, forming the foundation of our viewpoints. And with these viewpoints, we can see our place in the world as meaningful by benediction or lacking meaning beyond mammalian purpose.

So if our meaning stops after our children are raised to the point of self-sufficiency (which may be too gratuitous a view of nature’s intent), and there is no divine archetype to model our meaning around, how do we create our own meaning? And why does it matter?

Viktor Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist and author of Man’s Search for Meaning, wrote the following after surviving Auschwitz during the Holocaust: 

“Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, but rather he must recognize that it is he who is asked.” 

This quote suggests that our lives are asking us to define our own meaning. If meaning is our primary motivator, which Frankl argues is true, then our meaning is bound to the choices we make in response to life’s circumstances. We have the freedom to choose our attitudes, regardless of the challenges life presents, and through “purposeful work” or “creativity, love, and finding courage in the face of adversity,” meaning is ours to make. This matters because the search for meaning in this context turns our seeking inward. It tells us we have the tool and textures for creation—that our minds and actions have the power to imbue us with a purpose for carrying on each day. Meaning is not found in Manna from the heavens. Meaning is an ongoing project for creating purpose in deeply personal and subjective ways. 

These ideas shouldn’t stand in opposition to religion, but often they do. The dictates of strict religious text may stifle an artist in search of creativity that spills beyond the acceptable boundaries of doctrine within their sect; same-sex relationships, where partners find meaning in their lives together, may be viewed as sinful. No matter how archaic this thinking may be, it is a reality we must face.

Meaning is ours to craft by searching for and exploring the primary motivations in our lives. Maybe it’s found in family. Perhaps your work or creativity provides a lasting sense of purpose. Maybe it’s all three. Whatever the case may be, the act of facing life without religious meaning or procreative purpose puts us squarely in front of a blank, existential whiteboard, waiting for our ideas. So, what will you write?