When I was a wee bean sprout, my parents took me on a vacation to somewhere sunny, beach-laden, and bustling with people. I have one very distinct memory from an otherwise unclear day, because while it didn’t introduce me to theology, it introduced me to the idea that everyone surely had their own brand of life and it was concrete and righteous, always. We were walking along a boardwalk and we passed a wooden beach house, and graffittied on the side of that beach house was “The meaning of life is a life of meaning.” How beautiful, how simple, and I stopped there and merrily walked away, and for many years, that was that.
Of course it’s not until you start to think about your future that it might occur to you that the meaning of life and the purpose of life are very different, and then you might extend that into the meaning and purpose of your life, and then it’s a completely different matter altogether.
Reader, I may be at a point in my young bean plant life where I am philosophical and confused, but allow me to share with you the poem that I chosen to be my muse this summer, and then allow me to explain how it relates to you.
O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman