In August I went on an adventure. I’ve dreamed of seeing the vastly heaven pointed redwood forests in all their lush and reddish brown glory, so I flew across the country to Portland and made my way down the Oregon coast with a pit stop to camp at the base of Mt Hood, hiked through and camped among the perfect redwoods, and ended up in Jack Kerouac’s old hood of San Francisco. It was a glorious trip. When people close to my, really, just my mother, asked me why I was going on that trip and why I was going alone, I told them (her) that I was soul searching. I wanted to find myself. (And I did, the first night I camped in a completely desolate campground alone in the woods in the dark. I found myself scared shitless, but I still found my true courageous, brave and daring self…)
So often I think to myself – and I have a feeling that much of the world, or at least the American culture, often thinks this way too – wondering who I really am. What I’m doing with my life. I’m trying to find my soul. I’m seeking out what would really make me happy. I want to know what this, this life, my life, is all about.
WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?!
You know what I think, what I realized? We already have the meaning of life. YOU are the meaning of life. I am the meaning of life. The meaning of life is our happiness, the pain we feel deep down inside, it’s warm family hugs, it’s truly feeling love and loved, it’s lust, it’s forgiveness, it’s failing, and it’s getting back up and trying again. The meaning of life can be found in sweet and glittery candy stores, it can be found standing at the edge of the sea staring out into the gray nothingness at the horizon, it can be found looking up at the sky when you’re in the mountains and feel so damn close to what’s out there and you feel so damn small. The meaning of life is feeling contentment in a moment, it’s sharing laughter with good friends, it’s exchanging a smile with a passing stranger. It’s also feeling real fear, god-forbid you feel true gut wrenching heartbreak but it’s that too, and anger that drives you mad you literally punch a hole in your wall out of frustration. Life is feeling young when your fifty. Life is growing old and getting wrinkles. Life is living on your own and supporting yourself for the first time in a big city in your early twenties. Life is watching the passing of lives and then you’re gone. The meaning of life is YOUR LIFE.