The Meaning of Life

There was a time in my life, not too long ago, that almost everyday I questioned the meaning of my life. Happily married, a high achiever at work, a bunch of close friends and admirers ... so what was lacking? The search for a meaning made me restless.

I worked harder than my peers thinking that it'll lead me somewhere, I loved with all my heart thinking that it'll make me feel something, I read all the scriptures thinking it'll help me realize something. Most people thought I was living life to the fullest—at least that's what they said. They loved my passion, my zeal, and my focus. However, I was deeply unfulfilled. The more I achieved the more I felt unhappy.

The birth of my son changed everything. As I saw him grow up, I gradually started realizing that life is not about something that is waiting to happen—it's happening now. Everything that my son does is in the now. When he plays he plays, when he paints he paints, when he hugs me he hugs me ... pure action for the joy of it, not expecting that something great will happen in the future because of it. He taught me with his actions that happiness would not come from something that I expect to achieve in the future, but by doing what I love now.

There is no past and no future for me anymore. Past cannot be changed and future is yet to happen. The only thing that is happening is now, and that is life. Thinking too much about the past creates expectations for the future. Being able to fulfill those expectations create more expectations ... not satisfaction. Unfulfilled expectations create despair, angst, and grief. However, there is no failure in the now, since there is no expectation. Oh yes, you might say that there is no success either. Hold on, we have merely scratched the surface.

Success as I had known before was all about fulfilling my dreams. Dreams again are nothing but expectations. I have begun to question the nature of this very success that is driven by the ego. This is nothing but an expectation, the fulfillment of which satisfies the ego. This is nothing but waiting for something to happen, as life goes by ... until one fine morning we realize that somebody stole all our nows. Each now is like a pearl. I will continue to collect them. May be one day, if I find a thread I can make the most perfect necklace. Even otherwise, who cares—I would have collected all the pearls anyway. Searching for the meaning of life in itself is an expectation—a future waiting to happen. That is not life. Life is happening now, and in it is the meaning of life.