I have been pondering about life. More specifically, my life. And even more specifically, the meaning of my life.
See, it’s one of those philosophical (rhetorical?) questions that tend to visit me every now and again.
I remember one muggy and humid afternoon, when I was 11. I had just woken up from my afternoon nap. And at that moment of waking, at that precise moment when my eyes opened, I had an insight. I AM ALIVE! The realization hit me with such force and clarity that I was winded. Even today, I can still remember that feeling inside me. That feeling of utter certainty, and a kind of awe.
Now, that’s what I would call a life-changing experience. And I suppose from that time, I have been on this search for the meaning of my life. Who am I? What is my role in this world? Or, simply put, what the hell am I doing here?
My friend says there is no answer, one just sort of grows into the question/ answer.
So while I continue to ruminate and integrate, I thought these words from Woodrow Wilson give me some sort of beginning to begin with, I guess…
“You are not here merely to make a living. You are here to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, and with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world. You impoverish yourself if you forget this errand.”
And I wonder, how?