I have been thinking about meaning and purpose a lot lately. Truth is, it’s pretty much on my mind most of the time. It’s just that lately, it seems to be on my mind more than usual.

All sorts of people talk about the need to have a meaningful life filled with purpose. If you’re inclined to drink that particular flavor of Kool-Aid (I won’t apologize for thinking of it that way … I tend to be contrary and question the status quo whenever I feel like it), it has the potential to make your life uncomfortable rather than help it. That’s my personal opinion and not a studied pronouncement. I haven’t done the research or conducted numerous polls of huge numbers of people on the issue. All I have is my life’s experience. Feeling you need to have meaning and purpose, especially if you feel you do not, can be a depressing exercise in futility.

Don’t get me wrong though. If you seek to find something meaningful to do because it comes from inside of you, then go for it. But don’t look for meaning because the pundits have said it’s essential to living a happy and fulfilled life. Because from where I’m standing, it’s not essential.

If you need a reason to get out of bed in the morning other than it’s time to get out of bed, then maybe you need to look inside yourself and find what is missing in your life. Or maybe you just need an antidepressant. Sorry. I shouldn’t be so flippant. I know that depression is a serious issue for a lot of people, my husband included. So I understand. Really I do. I get depressed from time to time.

That missing thing could be a hobby or a partner or a job that you actually like. But please don’t go looking for meaning or purpose. Those are concepts that are so hard to pin down that the sages and pundits haven’t really put a dent in that conversation yet and may never.

Coming near to death sometimes lights a fire in a person and then that person says, “I’m going to do something meaningful with my life.” But what does that mean? Do you then spend the rest of your life unfulfilled because you could never quite manage to figure out what that meaningful thing should be?

For me, coming near to death, it became clear to me that life has no purpose other than to be. There is no meaning other than what I ascribe to things.

I don’t have to have a purpose. I just have to get out of bed every day, face the day, and get on with the job of living my life. Well, I’ll qualify that a little … I have a husband, dog and cat to love and take care of.

For me, the purpose of life is to live it. I don’t need meaningful pursuits. When I start to think that I might need meaning, I start to get a bit upset. Did I do enough meaningful things? Were my meaningful things really just pretty little petty egoisms? I don’t need or want all that self-doubt. So I simplify.

I believe that life intrinsically has reason and meaning and purpose all in one neat little package. No mess, no fuss and no bother, no need to look for it. Just to be alive is all that I need.

Just don’t get me started on contribution. That’s a whole other ball of wax.

That’s my thought … thoughts … for the day.

Photo and quote courtesy of Pro Bono Australia and BrainyQuote, respectively