Nihilism Deconstructed
What is the meaning of life? Well... there's a few problems with that question. Beginning with the word "the".
The underlying assumption here is that there
is exactly one meaning. Not two, three, four or more,
if any at all. More importantly, it's not obvious what the question is actually asking in the first place. If I were to ask what is the meaning of
"Apple", someone might respond with the definition of the word. But the consensus here is that we're not looking for a definition
of the word "life". So maybe it's worth thinking about... what kind of an answer
are we looking for, anyways?
Ah, the endless but futile human effort to make sense of our reality. Do we ever ask why it is that we fall asleep? No really because to
an alien it may seem a truly terrifying concept. We lie down, let ourselves be caught off-guard and go unconscious, waking up only the next day
with little to no recollection of what just happened over the last several hours. No, we don't really ask that question. We just continue on
about our lives unconcerned because it's... normal. That's just the way it works. See for most people, most questions of this nature are entirely
nonsensical. Life is not something to be questioned, rather accepted. Socialized.
Yet
this question is somehow different. It is the one that does not seem to go away. Not just plaguing the minds of philosophers for millennia; it
sits there deep within all of us. Gnawing at the back of our heads. Haunting us. For as much as we should, we don't think twice about the meanings
of love or music. We want to know the meaning of
life. Life, the universe, everything. What does it all mean? Why are we here?
Mustn't there be some deeper truth we'll one day encounter that will finally make it all make sense? We're at the end of this giant jigsaw puzzle, and
can't seem to find the final piece. Is it missing? Will we die before we ever figure it out? Is there a
purpose to it all? That's
a bit more the spirit of the question.
And so let me ask you this: What is the purpose of a cog in a machine? well... to serve the ends of that machine. Which begs the question... well what is the purpose of
the machine? And maybe this machine is part of a larger system. And we could go on and on asking about a higher and higher purpose, but where
does it end? Few of us ever think to look that far. It seems for
anything to have meaning implies the existence of a greater purpose to serve.
But deep down we
know that's not true. We've felt meaning before! In family and friendship, in art and science, and everywhere in between. Clearly
there are such examples of a meaning that is intrinsic. By design. Serving no greater purpose than of and to itself ...right?
Yes! Love and music can bring us to the greatest of joys or the depths of sadness. And we don't need to ask what they mean. It is felt. Experienced.
Why then should the meaning of life be any different? Must life be a means to an end? Of course not. Then let it be
the end itself! It serves no purpose, because there is no greater purpose
to serve. But it is
not without meaning. It is a delight. A
challenge. A journey that will forever refuse to provide a justification for its own existence... and it never should! Quite frankly, we
should be thankful for it being this way, if not over the moon ecstatic about it. Needing a reason to exist is boring! Life is not a job. Let it be for fun!
Because why not?
(This is the basis of the wonderful philosophy of
Optimistic Nihilism)
I for one could not think of a more boring reality than a life with a predetermined purpose. Imagine your only purpose was to be a farmer your whole life.
To simply grow and harvest your crops year after year, with not an ounce of input from you into your own life's direction. Where would be the fun in that?!
Where is the excitement?! What makes your life interesting? Worthwile? We are blessed that this is not the case. No, in this life we have the freedom to
choose what
we want to do with it. There's no greater gift than that.
To me, the
only thing that makes life worth living is its sandbox nature. Being thrown onto a rock in the vacuum of space. A giant blank canvas
for something big to be created. From the moment we are born, our story is left to be written and we are the ones who get to write it. You chose to
become a farmer because you wanted to do something good for the world and provide food for people. Your passion was to plant and grow and harvest. No
one forced it upon you. We sit here and realize in all of our preoccupation with trying to find and chase a higher purpose, that we forgot to look down
here on Earth and missed the ball.
The fact that life has no meaning is precisely what gives it any meaning at all.
- Pedro Contipelli