We’ve been talking at work apt about happiness and meaning.
Which may be a little ironic given the deeply stressful situations my poor boss and I are in.
Anyway the conclusion we’ve come to is that the pursue of happiness causes stress. But the pursuit of meaning could result in happiness.
I had a flash today. My mind was devoid finally of thinking about the dead weight I have to drag around all week.
And I realized the meaning of my life comes from spending time with my mom.
Don’t get me wrong. She makes me crazy and I wish she lived her own life and didn’t need to be the center of mine.
But she’s funny and bright and pleasant and helpful.
You know, weight yes but not dead weight.
Anyway. Not the meaning I was looking for. But meaning nonetheless.
And maybe that’s more than many other people find in their lifetimes.