The Meaning of Life

by Impact

"What is the meaning of life?" We're all told to ask that question, and if not to ask it, to be perplexed by it. The television stars- the highest reaches of our society- pump this mentality into our heads from their glorious little worlds of perfection, where all of life's problems are resolved calmly and peacefully in a half hour and a lesson is tossed in at the end. They are all so in control of their lives that the only thing left up in the air is the higher meaning of it all. But this is not television and I, unlike ninety-nine percent of the world, choose not to pretend that it is. I like reality, fucked up as it may be.

Scientists, politicians, and clergymen all have ego enough to believe that they have the answer. So much so that they will dedicate their lives to analyzing, arguing, accusing, and creating a following that will supposedly lead to a greater end and a smoother ride. It's confusing. It's complicated. And by following their lead you choose to accept that the only path is through obsession of some sort. Obsession with questioning, with God, with money, with work, something. No matter what, its complicated, right?

I know better. I've witnessed the meaning behind our futile lives and struggles. Forgive me if I sound pompous, but I think anybody who still asks this infamous question is an idiot, because the answer is staring everyone of us in the face from day one. And it lies not in the struggle or the confusion or the competition, but in complete simplicity, at the base of human existence.

I live in a town where soccer moms drive SUV's with televisions in them. Where everyone is always fighting and gossiping and buying and evolving. Where crime is fashion and money is the driving force, the only thing keeping us all pushing forward. We go to church on Sunday, we vote Republican, we send our kids to good schools, and we sleep well at night knowing that we will reach our ultimate goals because we walk along the path that society has paved for us in the glow of its most precious mystery. "What is the meaning of life?"

Empathy. As in understanding, as in human companionship. Forget your school work. Forget your job. Forget your goals and your success. Is there someone you can speak freely to? More importantly, are you willing to let someone speak freely to you and to be there when the shit hits the fan? Or are you putting up your walls of money and self indulgence just like society wants you to? Could you cry or admit you were afraid the way you did to your parents when you were a little kid?

If you believe in the American Dream you are chasing your tail. A house in the suburbs, two cars, two kids, job security, and healthcare are all mental and emotional narcotics that mean nothing if you can't be counted on. Everyone of us- the Pope, the President, the garbage man, the soldier, the illegal immigrant, the doctor, and the homeless man are all the same. We all end up dead and buried at some point and are no more useful than anyone else. And all your money, all your hard work, all your dreams will never pull you out of the ground. But if you were there, even just once, in complete sincerity as a shoulder for someone to cry on, you have done the most important job of all, and the only one that will ever truly matter. They say that you know an addict is lying when he moves his lips. I guess we'll never be fully sincere until we're no longer a culture of addicts. It hurts to face this fact and I guess that's the reason I seem so withdrawn, but its reality. And I like reality.