I don’t know about other people, but for me meaning is extremely important, vital even, I would say. And I don’t know how it is that lately (for months now), I’ve been experiencing more and more often and more acutely a lack of meaning in my life. Could it be the mid-life crisis? Possibly. And I’ve been feeling this even more deeply since the beginning of summer, specifically since the summer school vacation started and my son went to his grandparents for the summer.
It seems that nothing makes sense anymore, that everything is in vain, that whatever I do or want to do is doomed to perish in time, that nothing really matters anymore, that everything will come to an end at some point anyway, and everything will be forgotten and will be just a grain of sand in the endless desert of life. When my son is at home, for better or for worse, I feel that my life has a meaning, a purpose, a direction to go in, but, on my own, what is the point of it all?
I’ve just finished reading Mitch Albom’s “Five People You Meet in Heaven”, in which he says that only after we die will we truly be able to see what our meaning on this earth was, that only then will we be able to truly comprehend and understand how our lives have impacted the lives of other people, some of whom we know nothing about and will know nothing about during our human existence. Which is a bit sad, don’t you think? We need to wait to cross over, wherever and whatever that means, to find the true meaning of our existence. Because, he says, every life impacts on other lives in one way or another, and our life is impacted in turn by all other existences. We are always interconnected. This is a concept I have also found in personal development books, something I have felt, at different intensities and at different levels of awareness, in my own life.
So why do I feel empty inside? Why does everything seem frivolous, meaningless, futile?
Perhaps I have lost connection with myself, with my essence, with God, with the Universe, with the Source of all that is? I probably have. And I realize that, but I can’t seem to find my way back to it, I can’t seem to find my way back ‘home’. And, I’ve been trying so hard. Maybe that’s the very problem, that I’ve been actively trying to reconnect to myself, to God. Maybe I just need to let myself be carried by the invisible arms of life. Maybe. I just don’t know how to do that anymore. For the last few years it’s been all about the material, the tangible, the doing, the survival. And everything else has been left in a fog of oblivion.
I have moments when I just sit and stare into emptiness, into an endless black void, where I don’t seem to be “in me”. And yet, where am I in those moments? And what is that “something” that is not in me?
I miss it. I miss me “in me”, as strange as that may sound.