I’ve been doing some soul-searching, I guess, these past few weeks. Waiting for a visa (yes, still) does that to you. Also, I suppose my previous post (about life and death) reflects my mood: thinking about what’s really important. And so, without further ado, here is…(drumroll, please)…the meaning of life. I suppose I ought to capitalize the ‘M’ and the ‘L’, respectively, but I’m not convinced this is my “final answer”. So, this is the lower-case meaning of life, according to me. This morning’s version, at least. And, no, it’s not forty-two. As always, your mileage may vary.

Okay, now these are the important bits, so I will capitalize them…

• LOVING
• LEARNING
• LAUGHING (aka BEING HAPPY; aka Being present; aka Experiencing the joy of the moment)

(Easier said than done, you may say? Well, that may be true, but it’s also true that these are done by doing, not by saying.)

I think it’s all about the heart. Loving, learning and laughing from the heart, not from the brain. For example, while I do find book learning and gaining new knowledge rewarding, it’s the experiential learning – doing things, seeing places, meeting people – that is even more satisfying. To me, that’s more of the heart than the mind.

So what makes life worth living? I think it’s our “Aha!” moments that hold the key. And when do these moments happen, for me? At first, I struggled to think of a few cases, but soon the ideas began flooding in. It turns out: a lot of things! Here are a few examples, and all of the following can be classified into one or more of the categories above: Loving, Learning and Laughing.

• Being in nature. Rising out of the trees to witness an unexpected vista. Feeling that I’m one tiny part of a vast landscape. Experiencing the beauty of the natural world: thundering ocean waves; towering mountains; subtle-hued deserts; ancient forests; living, speaking ice; everchanging cloud formations; sunrise and sunset; elusive meteors; auroras and the humbling stars. Rain and the sunshine; the caress of the most gentle breeze and the whipping of a gale that leaves me breathless.
• Attending celebrations, the coming together of people to honour a marriage, a birth, a death. Or simply being with good friends, for no reason other than to enjoy each other’s presence, to reconnect our separate lives.
• Singing with others; playing an instrument in a group; playing with children, hearing them laugh and seeing life anew, as they see it for the first time.
• Receiving the gift of connectedness through art and books; sharing thoughts and emotions with someone from another time and place, someone I have never met.
• Learning something new. The moment of realization, after ages of slow and frustrating progress, that I can now do something I never could do before.
• The pleasure of experiencing anything done with extreme skill and attention: the fine work of a craftsman, a virtuosic music performance, the perfectly arranged words of a poem, the staging and acting of a great dramatic work, the physical mastery of a top athlete and the magical grace of a dancer or Cirque du Soleil acrobat. Knowing that nothing we do can be perfect; nonetheless, experiencing something and being convinced: “this is perfect.”
• Feeling physically tired and satisfied, for having achieved something. The simple pleasure of doing. Climbing, walking, running, building something with my own hands, even the simple act of shoveling snow.
• Holding someone, touching and being touched, sharing love physically and emotionally.
• Doing anything selflessly for another. Paying attention; noticing someone’s need, even something as simple as holding the door.
• Comforting someone who is suffering. Putting an arm around a shoulder, giving a hug, listening.
• Giving. Discovering that I need far less than I imagine.
• Laughing. Not cruelly, not at the expense of another. Laughing for no reason, at absurdity, at silliness. Laughing because another is laughing; without knowing why; or because you don’t know what else to do.
• Smiling at a stranger, seeing the surprise on their face, and having them smile back.
• Being moved to tears, by any of the above “aha!” moments. Receiving that private upswell of emotion, and letting it run its course.

Many thanks to “chocolatina”, who handed me two of these three “secrets”, simply in the way she signed her letters. She would close them with: “Tons of love and laughs!” What a wonderful wish for someone to make, reflecting her joyful perspective on life. It just took me a while to clue in to how profound these simple words were. (-;

Further thanks to my grandmothers, who taught me all about unconditional love. My maternal grandmother, though physically frail and mentally very far down that one-way road called Alzheimer’s, continues to inspire her children, grandchildren, and (although they may not realize it yet) great-grandchildren. One of her most wise sayings, which I am told she still repeats regularly, is: “You just have to love and love and never stop.” And, recently, she said to my aunt who was visiting: “I am just sitting here adoring you.” I, in turn — though physically far away — am sitting here thinking about her and adoring her.