Does life even have a meaning?!

It’s really hard to concentrate on a thing that you can’t see but you’ve only heard about. A “thing” that you can feel from time to time but you don’t have the words to describe it or the ability to dig more searching for it because it doesn’t have a record in humans’ history. Or maybe it does have a record but with different meanings and definitions that has never been compiled together under one definition. However, the power to concentrate is the most important thing in my story here. Living without this power would be like opening one’s eyes wide without seeing anything.

It’s that feeling that struck me few years ago; a feeling that is below the surface deep down there in my well of tangled feelings. Until today and from time to time it sticks its head up reminding me of its existence but I used to just forget about it until it makes its second appearance once again to remind me “I’m here!” I used to ask “who are you?” but every time with no answer and with a deep silence, then life goes on as usual. At a point in my life -that I don’t know when- a feeling of absence of meaning and a missing of something certain to hold into started to appear unconditionally. Words like truth, life, meaning, happiness started not to make any sense. I think its emptiness back then that found its way growing up inside my heart, or maybe that hole of emptiness has always been there inside my heart without me noticing. I don’t know but it’s that thing that I can’t describe in words or find a definition for but I know it’s there…

He Jiaying
He Jiaying

As everybody else, life started hitting into me and I’ve found the echo of pain in that emptiness hole, so I started creating a fence around that fatal emptiness inside me. Actually, I’m not that weak person who hides his fears but I can bear pain only if it has a meaning. What is that thing that I’m enduring my pain for? Why I even deserve pain? Whom should I ask? Maybe people who are happy! Let’s make that my goal to get out of those never ending circles of me; to find those people and have a meaning. We can’t live without goals and I’ve just created one for myself anyway.

What happened then was me starting to gain some sort of knowledge of life and I got to know people who taught me things I’ve never knew before. I started getting attached to some stuff and I accumulated more feelings. You know what? I invested enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know other people, but in the end, how close can I come to those people’s essence? I convinced myself that I know those people well, but do I really know anything important about anyone? Does life has a meaning? “Nothing consumes a person so much as meaningless exertion” that what I got out of that experience, only when I was introduced to the word “essence”.

Now I can say it was a temporary solution that was like a drug to my pain. It made me feel at ease for some time until I forgot the whole thing of thoughts and emptiness. I even forgot why I decided to start the whole thing from the very beginning. To be honest, during my attempt, I lost concentration and I got consumed in my new attachments and accumulated more unresolved tangled feelings.

berlin-artparasites 2

But this thing, whatever it was, this “mistake” something, hung there inside my body like a certain kind of potential. I wanted to give it a name, but the word refused to come to mind. I’m always terrible at finding the right words for things. What happened was that the new exciting flavor of life calling it a new goal started to fade away by time because I got used to it.  Seriously, what did I do wrong? Why did I come back to the very beginning only feeling a strong rooted hole of emptiness? I remember certain accomplishments and happy moments with people I got to know and love. Where are the beloved ones to commemorate those memories together in order to regain my confidence against emptiness? Why do I remember things that people don’t remember, and why I forget things that they don’t forget? Those shared memories seemed to me a kind of fiction or fiction as kind of memories. Either way, no matter how hard I tried to put everything neatly into shape, the context wanders this way and that, until finally the context isn’t even there anymore.

The context! The context! The context! I thought then that the real context of things is really important because it is actually the echo of their “core”. When I started to think more deep about my core, I realized that it has always been my core in the name of intentions that created the context and the results of my life. Before, I used to concentrate on myself and the results of things on me to feel relieved and happy with people around. I’ve never thought of hurting anyone, but I’ve never genuinely thought about anyone either.

Mary L. Macomber
Mary L. Macomber

I realize now that the reality of things, the reality of me is not something I convey to people but something I make. I realize that I have infinity in my hands that at the same time is zero; infinite options and infinite possibilities that all of us try to scoop it all up in our hands, and what we get is a handful of zero because they have no meaning to our core. Our true core, when attached to people’s core, nature’s core, universe core, gives a beautiful sway of meaningful harmony in the melody of life. That kind of melody that never leaves your heart empty or struggle emptiness.

I don’t want to follow a mirage once again. I want the core of that melody, the one that never dies because precious things never die; good deeds never die, our souls never die, even when it leaves our bodies. I wanna that kind of overlapping that makes things continue and never stops, that kind of truth that with passing by generations it’s still there spreading its roots deep down in the ground never shaken up. Genuinely observing people gave me a clue!

Actually, I have always experienced so much beauty in every single person I’ve met. Everybody’s born with some different thing at the core of their existence. And that thing, whatever it is, becomes like a heat source that runs each person from the inside. And it just shakes us all up leaving us as meaningful beings that don’t look as physical bodies but souls with genuine interest and compassion.  And I’m sure that this kind of genuine beauty must be a reflection of a greater graceful beauty that never ends; the source. So, my goal now is to find a way to attach my core with the purity of the source.

You know what? Finding a meaning showered me with happiness. You know why? Because I got to know that: I have always expected happiness as a one big portion we attain after some patience. But I found out that happiness is divided into portions throughout our lives that we have to concentrate to feel them, know them, and experience them. Knowing that piece of knowledge is happiness in itself and it gives a meaning to life in a way that makes sense to some unanswered questions. To be alive, you should be excited! It’s not hard; you just have to have your own way and to concentrate.

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Note: You can relate my article to some of Haruki Murakami’s thoughts

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4 thoughts on “Does life even have a meaning?!

    1. Esraa Osama says:

      Thanks dear ❤
      Actually yes! I'm so fond of him; his thoughts, his writings and the way he compares things. He always makes meanings to things that we barely notify their existence. I love that.
      Do you like him?

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Esraa Osama says:

      I appreciate your comment so much! ^_^
      Actually have been thinking for a while whether it is too much detailed or not. Your comment just came on time, thanks ❤

      Liked by 1 person

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