What is the meaning of my life? Everyone sooner or later asks this question and is tormented by not finding an answer to it. Or maybe his answer is not?
Why do we live? This issue seems to adults naive. Indeed, teenagers are more likely to ask them. They are aggravated by the feeling of death, which gives rise to a feeling of meaninglessness of existence. It is impossible to say that then it completely leaves a person and he lives only with specific worries and problems, and eternal issues fade into the background. No, albeit not in the form of an eternal question, but this thought is not so rarely visited by any of us.
So I am fussing, a man thinks, I earn money, I go up the career ladder, respect me, there are some achievements, I helped someone, loved someone, but now I see: everything goes away, and love passes, money disappears, like dust, like dust, children rarely go to the rebuilt cottage (they have their own companies and things), the circle of friends is growing up, the wife has become irritable, the merits will be forgotten sooner or later … then why was it all this? So many efforts and hopes, so many seduction and grief. Why, when only death awaits ahead?
In the truth, to say, there is no answer to this children’s question (and all philosophical questions are children). In a person of religious, he is decided naturally, since he believes that he will live after death, and accordingly, his earthly lifestyle. But there are few people of truly believers. For most, the resurrection of Christ is only a metaphor, beautiful and substantial, but not a reality. And then it is not serious to believe in the afterlife.
Bright minds answer this question, but these answers are either foggy or disappointing. I remember a letter to a makarenco teenager who was on his verge of hysteria from him: what is the meaning of life? Anton Semenovich with a frankness rare for the Soviet teacher answered that the question of the meaning lies exclusively in the field of biology, and in human life he was not. Goethe answered the same question that the meaning of life is in life itself. Wonderful! Genius, apparently, is right, but still how to apply it to their own being? Leo Tolstoy asked this question until old age, tormented terribly (all the answers were intermediate) and could not calm down.
You cannot answer this question, but you can get out of the field of his oppressive attraction. Often this succeeds in ordinary people and, as they say, simple. Not because this topic is unbearable for their intellect (she, as I said, is beyond the power of any intellect). But they know how to love business (most ordinary), know how to love children, and then grandchildren to self -forgetfulness, dissolve in their joys, troubles and diseases, love for life companion does not fade away over the years, but goes into the sense of successfully incident and expensive kinship.
They meet the death of a loved one with an open weeping, and tears, oddly enough, wash off grief faster than drowned inward. Such a person perceives each new day as a gift and loves adhesive leaves before he manages to think about the meaning. What can I say, is it really a matter of lovers to the meaning of life?
It turns out that love, if a person is full of it, replaces this painful and insoluble question, for him there simply is no room left there. We can say – not love, but interest, but an interest is passionate, absorbing entirely. Say that this is solved, it is impossible. But I didn’t say that. However, remember such a lack of question as the right one – you can. And at the next influx of depression, try to return to it.
It’s difficult. Because in life there are inevitable losses, disagreements, illnesses. We are not always in enthusiasm and love. It is impossible to return them to. But in life there is always what is worth loving. I don’t know if it is possible to learn this. Perhaps a love of life, a sense of harmony is a special gift that is not given to everyone. But at least you need to know what is the matter. Sometimes this feeling is similar to a religious revelation, although it is not necessarily directly related to religion.
I will give an episode from the life of a wonderful artist Anatoly Zaslavsky, who struck me. He was a student of an art school. I read a lot, in particular, Leo Tolstoy and also tormented the question of the meaning of life. Life was not too cheerful, his friend had just deprived of his student ticket, he had to go into the army, and there he, unable to stay on the crossbar for more than a few seconds, would die. And suddenly … I give an oral story:
“Suddenly, this is like mystical things, but nevertheless it is so … If not Yashka, I would think it was a hallucination. Because suddenly everything became highlighted. … Here were all sorts of dirty rags of our students. Well, everything was lying, everything was careless, and everything was not necessarily and not excellent. But everything was suddenly displayed by some internal … not even physical light, but with meaning was displayed. In general, it became incredibly beautiful, it became so good. I just became clear to me.
The main thing is that I had such explosions of pleasure before, but they were exalted. And it was completely different, such a calm acceptance.
I suddenly realized that everything that lies like that, it lies perfectly in its place, that nothing needs to be moved, that the world is covered with absolute harmony, absolute freedom and harmony, nothing can be changed, because everything is perfect. … And even then I realized that if this feeling passes, I would remember that it was true that the world was really absolutely commensurate, harmonious and endlessly glows its own composition ”.
