That's Not What I Mean

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Can I tell you something?

I didn’t waste time when I was younger pondering the meaning of life. I was too busy living life to consider freighted existential questions like ‘who am I?’ or ‘why am I here?’ I was preoccupied with more pressing and important questions like ‘what’s there to eat around here?’, and ‘am I ever going to get laid again?’ That desultory existence was as self-actualized as I needed or wanted to be at the time.

Fast forward a few decades and not that much has changed. I’m not a religious man, and even if I was, I imagine God is too busy to have a plan for little old me.

And I’m not particularly philosophical either, tending to believe the existence of humans is a fortuitous happenstance and our short time on this planet – Earth’s been spinning around for 4.5 billion years and we’ve been squatting on the property for only a couple million – will be terminated in the not too distant future by either alien or artificial intelligence, or most likely our own lack of it.

So what’s the point trying to find deeper meaning when all we’re designed to do is keep out of the rain, make babies, and find the nearest Jack-in-the-Box?

But that’s not what I wanted to tell you.

I’m not as cynical as I make myself sound. I do seek meaning in my life, it’s just not a deep dive to the bottom of my soul in an experimental carbon-fiber submersible. What I seek would more accurately be described as happiness, and if that makes me sound not just cynical but shallow as well, so be it. At least in shallow water I can snorkel in the lagoon of life admiring the colorful fish and not be crushed by a catastrophic implosion of disappointment.

Truth be told, I believe human life is a never-ending search for not meaning, or even happiness, but simply balance.

The German-Swiss poet, author and painter, Hermann Hesse – a deep meaning diver if there ever was one – wrote of life being a “hectic struggle between desire and dread”. Most of us exist in that space trying to strike a tolerable balance between the two. Nobody actually believes there’s some guru on top of a mountain with the answer to ‘what’s it all mean?’ and even if there was, who’s to say he’s not some batshit-crazy cultist handing us a cup of Kool-Aid? And nobody who didn’t just roll off the turnip truck or take a huge hit of nitrous oxide thinks life’s a bowl of cherries or a bed of roses.

Speaking of roses, my friend Hermann also once wrote that, “Life has sunny moments, little flowers between sand and stone.” A lovely metaphor and much closer to the meaning of life in my book.

Actually, it was his book, but this is my essay so come with me on this. The problem with seeking deeper meaning and gazing into your navel all day is that you’re never going to be able to stop and smell the little flowers and fully appreciate the sunny moments. Just because you don’t find as many chocolate chips in your chocolate chip cookie as you’d like, it’s still a cookie, right?

17th Century English philosopher, Thomas Hobbes, said that life in the state of nature is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” And you thought I was cynical.

Hobbes was actually arguing that by entering into a social contract and allowing ourselves to be governed by laws and institutions we are avoiding such a grim existence, unless of course you live in public housing projects. Point taken Tom, but let’s be honest. At least some of the time, our thin veneer of civilization fails to protect us from life in the state of nature.

To paraphrase another great cynic, Kurt Vonnegut, in his novel Breakfast of Champions – which refers to martinis by the way, and I prefer mine up with a twist – muses that we are given a life often not worth living, yet have an iron will to live.

And since I can’t seem to stop quoting Hermann Hesse, he puts in even more stark terms that our time on the mortal coil is defined and driven by “the unendurable tension between the inability to live and the inability to die.” Sadly, a distressingly significant number of people are able to end their own lives prematurely, but most of us aren’t and must endure the tension.

Marcus Aurelius – a much deeper thinker than your average debauched Roman Emperor – once opined, “Think of yourself as dead. Now take the rest of your life and live it properly.”

Former heavyweight champion of the world and philosopher king, Muhammad Ali, succinctly suggested, “Don’t count the days. Make the days count.” And I’ll let English writer E.M. Forster have the last word then drop the mic. “Death destroys a man, but the idea of death saves him.”

But that’s not what I wanted to tell you either.

There’s a charming 1991 romcom starring Albert Brooks and Meryl Streep called Defending Your Life. The premise is that when you die, you’re sent to a posh purgatory resembling a Vegas hotel to await a hearing which will decide your fate. You are assigned an apathetic public defender – they’ve lost so many souls so why care? – and two judges watch video featuring highlights and lowlights of your life then rule whether you may pass to a higher existence or are shipped back to Earth to try again.

Living a life of honesty, integrity, generosity, kindness and courage is the ticket, but since most of us only use a small portion of our brains and consequently live a life of fear and loathing, it’s back to the first tee for a mulligan.

What’s interesting about the movie’s premise to me is there’s no mention of being a good Christian, or Muslim, or Hindu, or Buddhist, or whatever. And there’s definitely no requirement you do something meaningful with your life in order to move on up. At least not in the sense we humans tend to think of deep meaning.

To put it in the form of a question, you might cure some previously incurable disease but if you’re a mean, petty, selfish, self-absorbed asshole, is that a life well lived? It’s theoretically possible to be the Dalai Lama and still be a dick.

But what I really wanted to tell you is this.

‘What is the meaning of life?’ is a simple question, and one that tends to close in on us as we age. I’m not trying to butter up the judges for my hearing, but to me, a life means nothing unless it is lived with honesty, integrity, generosity, kindness and courage. In the end, love and friendship are the only things that matter and all we can take with us. It may be seen as a flaw or a failure or a waste by some, but I’ve never hoped to change the world. At this point, I just hope to leave the room with dignity.

Thanks for listening. Talk soon.