on: Are You(We) Meaningful?

Days that reek of waste. Wasted effort. Wasted time. Wasted words. Wasted food. Wasted work. Wasted arguments. Wasted worry.

Looking back on yesterday, I can confidently say that there was not one fruitful result.  A cluster of too much social media, an aching stomach, low self-worth, and jealousy. And too much rain. Outward and inward forces which drove me to waste moments that could have been beautiful.

There are days like that though. Days that sprint by, leaving us kneeling and gasping for breath. Wishing that we had been able to keep up and compete. And we feel it all day. The pang of the passing of a day. We feel the shortness of our lives. Our fragility. Wanting to make each moment, however, short, count.

Yet, we fail. I fail. I spend hours trolling through social media. Worrying about a budget. Ignoring my lovely boys. Fantasising about all the lives I could be living. Shopping for clothes I won’t buy online. Completing nothing on my list. Going to sleep wondering why that day had to exist. What meaning it had in the grand scheme of life.

Begging the question – what makes a life meaningful? Why would the day described above feel meaningless? And yet, a day bursting with activity, completed tasks, and successful endeavours, would be deemed as meaningful?

And if I assign irrelevance to so many of my days, what am I assuming about the days of others? Is a mum keeping her child alive in a war-torn country, lazy? Or a writer locked away in a room for hours on end, idle? Or a prisoner sitting in a cell, worthless? All because their days aren’t full of consequence. I would be deemed a judgemental, heartless, calloused human for such thoughts.

No, meaning must be more than occupied and efficient. Meaning can’t be quantified or defined. But it is felt. When you know who you are. A created human being with a unique soul. Who enjoys life in a distinct way from others. When you find a friend to explore mutual interests. When you find a lover that looks at your mind and body with lustly love. When a child finds you enthralling. When a career fuels your excitement. Meaning is a feeling. What makes us feel alive. Our essence.

Some days we feel it. But I doubt we can feel it every day of our lives. We can find what makes us feel alive. What gives us meaning. We can throw ourselves into our loves and passions. And yet, not be tied to them for our ultimate meaning. Our meaning must exist in who we are. That we are human beings. Creations of beauty and complexities and idiosyncrasies.

Therefore, my day of “waste” was a day of the human experience. Of eating, sleeping, drinking, thinking, loving, hating. Your days are not wasted. Even your days of doing nothing. Accomplishing nothing. Achieving nothing.

You are meaningful. I am meaningful. Because we are persons.