There seem to be a great number of social media posts recently on the subject of the meaninglessness of our lives.  Some point to what they believe to be an absurd cycle of “eat, work, be entertained, sleep” that repeats itself endlessly until we become infirmed and ultimately die.

Personally, I see nothing absurd about any of this.  Sure, our lives have no external meaning; it’s up to us to confer meaning to our existences by the choices we make. I used to say that I was put on Earth to solve corporate marketing challenges, the same way doctors are here to cure disease and cops are here to fight crime.

Also, this strikes me as a “first world problem.”  Think for a moment how few people living in areas that are war-torn, impoverished, disease-ridden, or ruled by cruel tyrants, who have the bandwidth to concern themselves with the meaning of life and to bemoan its monotony.

I’m here for the same reason that any of us are: my parents had sex, and that’s essentially all that any of us can say, whether the pregnancy was planned or accidental.  From there, it’s up to each one of us as individuals to make our way through the world.

There’s nothing about this that makes our lives absurd.

Does Life Have Meaning?