The Meaning Of Life (No, Seriously)
Let’s have a casual conversation for a Sunday afternoon. Something light and breezy, like, oh I dunno, the meaning of life perhaps? Okay, so maybe not so light and breezy, but let’s go there.
I hear you bleat and holler: “Why?”
I see you beat your fists on the table: “In the name of Nigel Mansell’s mustache and David Coulthard’s jaw, I was watching. the. mother. frikken. Formula. One.”
I sense you bristle: “Why can’t I spend my sabbath infinite scrolling on Insta, for the love of @influencersinthewild!”
Why, why, should we talk about this kind of deep stuff on a Sunday?
Let me explain.
Right now, I’m sitting at Hout Bay Roastery, outside, next to a stream, with the sun blazing and blue sky above me. The coffee here is outstanding by the way. It’s the best coffee I’ve had in South Africa to date (sorry Siki and David, you guys are up there, but Paul pips everyone with his ‘God particle’ beans).
After the fifth cup things become a lil blurry.
Above the grinding of coffee beans and the sound of water flowing, there are some people at the table next to me, speaking loudly. In short, they’re talking about how ‘life is hard’.
Earlier this morning, someone special and very close to me messaged to say ‘life is hard’.
M. Scott Peck begins the first line of the first chapter of his first book ‘The Road Less Travelled’ (it sold more than 15 million copies, so it must be on to something, right?) with the immortal line: ‘Life is hard’.
The teachings of the Buddha are based on the maxim, ‘life is hard’.
The book of Ecclesiastes (a great book, btw) starts with the author lamenting, ‘meaningless, meaningless’. I assume he (she?) was referring to the fact that, um, life is pretty hard.
Let’s take it as a basis then, for the purposes of this article, that we all agree that life, indeed, can be hard.
Sure. Some would argue that life is actually a lot easier than it used to be. For example, 120 years ago, the citizens of the world’s greatest city, New York, were feet deep in literal horse-poo most of the time. Equine-drawn carriages created deep gridlocks across the metropolis. Violent gangs loomed large and disease riddled the populace. It was a pretty miserable place to be, and that was the best place to be.
Elsewhere, in cities and rural areas not as prosperous, people were deathly-scared of smallpox, typhus and the dreaded flu (okay, so that flu part has not changed much).
Historians and economists nowadays are quick to point out that we’ve largely solved the triple threat of plague, war and hunger. Life is better, objectively speaking, than it’s ever been. Most of us have access to humanity’s entire back-catalogue of knowledge. Travelling the globe is largely accessible. Disease is kept in quarantine, as much as possible. Food is abundant, cheap and sugary.
Hell, we even have a direct line to the leader of the free world, although it’s debatable whether that’s a good thing or not.
This mystical thing called ‘meaning’ is rooted in creativity.
So, why then are so many people battling?
Depression is crippling us. Anxiety is considered a global pandemic. People are committing suicide in far greater numbers and the average person is leading a life of, in the words of Henry David Thoreau, ‘quiet desperation’.
People in idyllic coffee shops in Hout Bay, Cape Town, are moaning that ‘life is hard’.
In my work sphere, made up mostly of mad scientists and money-makers, I see people struggling daily, trying to figure out what it’s all about. Over the past while, an insight as jumped out of this melee. There is a distinct split in people who are ‘getting on with it’ and those who are not yet creating, building, crafting the idea that’s in their heads. The ones who are deploying their unique creative skills are the ones who’re hacking life. The ones who’re not are the ones who feel hacked.
Having spoken to a number of friends, colleagues and peers about this problem, I have a theory. People who know me, know that I have theories of most things, but this is one of my favorites. The theory relates to the meaning of life.
The peeps who are battling are struggling to find purpose - I think that much is clear. Victor Frankl, the Auschwitz survivor who wrote ‘Man’s Search For Meaning’ (if you haven’t yet, this is mandatory reading, btw) relates a story about the hospital he worked at as a Psychiatrist in Vienna. When Frankl arrived, there was a high propensity to suicide, but when Frankl came he told all the mental patients to discuss “what good is coming out of my hardship” the suicide rate dropped to zero.
Hardship is a given. We cannot avoid it; we all have to accept it.
I agree that that the way to circumvent the sadness around hardship is to find meaning in it. However, I believe that it’s as important to find meaning in life, as an essential hack for our sanity.
We all need to stand for something, and to understand what in my view that this mystical thing called ‘meaning’ is rooted in creativity.
I don’t think this is a new thought. Creatives from Picasso to Rubens to Michelangelo have known this. Their joy came from the simple act of expressing creativity. They found true happiness in their craft, even if they were pretty miserable most of the time. (Vincent, looking at you bru.)
If creatives are miserable when they’re not creating, what about those of us who don’t identify as being ‘a creative’?
Some points on this:
First of all, I think we should all identify as being creative.
Secondly, I think we have all been given the talents and tools to create.
Thirdly, I don’t mean find your purpose in work, necessarily. Sometimes work is just work, y’know? Creativity can mean any creative output in any sphere of life.
Fourth, my friend Pierre du Plessis (subscribe to his daily mailer yo!) points out that only recently did people stop being creative as a daily remit. Around 100 years ago, most ‘workers’ were in fact ‘creators’, blacksmiths, milliners, heck even farmers designed and built their own houses and buildings. Now, it’s only a select few that create for a living.
Fifth, being creative doesn’t necessarily make you happy. It gives you purpose and meaning. Sometimes, this will also make you happy too. Woop!
Lastly, and the whole point of this article, I think creativity holds the meaning of life.
If you believe that we were created by a Creator, and we’re made in the image of said Creator, then it stands to reason that we’re kinda predisposed to creativity - right?
If you don’t believe in Creator stuff, then you still gotta admit creativity is kinda key to all this life stuff.
When I led a digital marketing agency with my co-conspirators Mike and Louis, we had a team of designers, administrators and programmers. One would think that the programmers would be the least creative of the lot, but oddly, the best programmers are the ones that allow themselves to express themselves creatively.
The sheer act of creativity brings about a frustration, a bristling of brain cells, a clashing of tectonic neural plates - and the discipline to stick to the act and work towards the picture your brain is creating - gives life meaning.
Right?
So, stop consuming and start creating. Put down the phone, step away from the socials, and get cracking. Turn off the Formula One, and start formulating your One Thing.*
Creativity, which in itself is a sheer expression of truth, will set you free.
Right.
* See what I did? Nice, hey?
