Some time has passed
I turned 42 today. Believe it or not, I’ve never been this old before. It’s a new personal best!
Being 42, you would naturally expect that I have become privy to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. And in fact, I have:
Life, the universe and everything have no inherent meaning, because meaning can only exist in the mind of an observer and is therefore completely subjective. The meanings that we tend to think are objective are just large-scale subjective; they’re impressed upon us as we grow by our peer groups but can vary between societies and species.
Therefore, your life means what you make it mean to you, and if you care, also what you make it mean to others. The ancients were on the right track when they said “Life is what you make of it.”
So what does my life mean to me? I’m not sure. I’m probably still far too young to figure that out. But I value enjoying it and I feel like it gains meaning when I observe the natural world, which brings me to:
What does the universe mean to me? It’s a playground filled with beauty and wonder that needs more minds and longer-lived minds to appreciate it. The universe is tragically finite in time, so it behooves us and any other sentient species that might exist to fill it with minds as quickly as possible, to maximize enjoyment and appreciation of its beauty, and just maybe to find a way to make it last even longer.
(The “and everything” part is pretty much covered by “universe”, by definition.)
