What makes me happy? This is a very good question these days. I used to have some basic ideas of what could bring on happiness in the short term: a good book, roaming around some exotic city, looking at Caspian Lake on a perfect summer day.
But it’s clearly short-term hedonistic happiness, and in the end it’s another book read. Another perfect summer day.
When I was younger I thought I was very clever in being aware that most jobs were day-to-day, they didn’t bring you to a long term goal. For example, my father was an ER doctor, which sounds wonderfully meaningful but I was struck how he wasn’t building towards anything with his work: people would come in, he’d patch them up and more people would come in. What new thing was he bringing into the world?
That’s one of the reasons why I became interested in science, which is all about the long-term goal, or figuring out the truth of our world that no one else knew before. That seemed meaningful.
So I became a scientist, and was trained to do just that. With each paper I felt like maybe I was getting closer to the goal, of protecting brain health, understanding why the brain fell apart in the first place. It was a worthy goal even though I suspected I was not particularly suited for it.
Only now, I’m not even sure of this goal, this meaning. Along with my suspicion that I’m not that suited, I’m also thinking that someone else could do what I’m doing just as well. That I’m not doing anything that isn’t being done by dozens of other scientists. Am I really adding that much to research? Does this research really add anything?
I’m not sure –any more –what’s supposed to be added to human existence. Especially by me. I know the world will keep on churning without me, that my mark will get fainter and then disappear. And that’s how the universe works. So lately I’ve been reading a lot about centering on the here and now, that we should appreciate this experience of being in the world and being alive. And I do. But I like goals, I want meaning to go further than this minute, and then the next minute.
Sometimes I wonder if there’s some book that will explain how to find meaning but the ones that seem most straightforward about it are self-help, which feel flat and trying to sell something.
The last two books that got close are The Anthropocene Reviewed, by John Green; and The Matrix by Lauren Groff. John Green is rather interesting because he achieved what I think would be very meaningful to me, he wrote fiction books that people loved and learned from. But clearly it wasn’t enough and this non-fiction book is all about him grappling with what isn’t enough (and a few things that are). I really wonder what else he will figure out about life and if it will be imminently depressing or life-affirming.
The Matrix is fiction, about a Medieval noble born woman who’s forced into a nunnery, and learns to accept a cloistered life, and in fact grows the nunnery into a Middle Ages powerhouse. What is interesting about her life is being aware that even this bit of power will fade, that everything she does for everyone in her flock will fade, and yet she tries so hard. It’s I guess living in the here and now, because if you don’t then there will be suffering around you.
I suppose in the end meaning is likely about alleviating suffering. At least for those close around you.
— siobhan
But it’s clearly short-term hedonistic happiness, and in the end it’s another book read. Another perfect summer day.
When I was younger I thought I was very clever in being aware that most jobs were day-to-day, they didn’t bring you to a long term goal. For example, my father was an ER doctor, which sounds wonderfully meaningful but I was struck how he wasn’t building towards anything with his work: people would come in, he’d patch them up and more people would come in. What new thing was he bringing into the world?
That’s one of the reasons why I became interested in science, which is all about the long-term goal, or figuring out the truth of our world that no one else knew before. That seemed meaningful.
So I became a scientist, and was trained to do just that. With each paper I felt like maybe I was getting closer to the goal, of protecting brain health, understanding why the brain fell apart in the first place. It was a worthy goal even though I suspected I was not particularly suited for it.
Only now, I’m not even sure of this goal, this meaning. Along with my suspicion that I’m not that suited, I’m also thinking that someone else could do what I’m doing just as well. That I’m not doing anything that isn’t being done by dozens of other scientists. Am I really adding that much to research? Does this research really add anything?
I’m not sure –any more –what’s supposed to be added to human existence. Especially by me. I know the world will keep on churning without me, that my mark will get fainter and then disappear. And that’s how the universe works. So lately I’ve been reading a lot about centering on the here and now, that we should appreciate this experience of being in the world and being alive. And I do. But I like goals, I want meaning to go further than this minute, and then the next minute.
Sometimes I wonder if there’s some book that will explain how to find meaning but the ones that seem most straightforward about it are self-help, which feel flat and trying to sell something.
The last two books that got close are The Anthropocene Reviewed, by John Green; and The Matrix by Lauren Groff. John Green is rather interesting because he achieved what I think would be very meaningful to me, he wrote fiction books that people loved and learned from. But clearly it wasn’t enough and this non-fiction book is all about him grappling with what isn’t enough (and a few things that are). I really wonder what else he will figure out about life and if it will be imminently depressing or life-affirming.
The Matrix is fiction, about a Medieval noble born woman who’s forced into a nunnery, and learns to accept a cloistered life, and in fact grows the nunnery into a Middle Ages powerhouse. What is interesting about her life is being aware that even this bit of power will fade, that everything she does for everyone in her flock will fade, and yet she tries so hard. It’s I guess living in the here and now, because if you don’t then there will be suffering around you.
I suppose in the end meaning is likely about alleviating suffering. At least for those close around you.
— siobhan
Thanks for this meditation on meaning! And for the book recommendations!
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