Wear the World Lightly

There is a story I heard once about two relatives who were attending the funeral services of a wealthy family member. One of them, with a greedy glint in his eyes, leans over and whispers; “how much did he leave?“. The other looks back and responds…”All of it“. The point of the story was that when our time comes, we don’t take any of our possessions with us.

St. Francis of Assisi, who was born into a wealthy noble family, left his life of possessions and privileges to start a monastery and live a life of simplicity. His advice to those who wanted to join him was to “Wear the world like a loose garment, which touches us in a few places and there but lightly”. 

St Francis Statue

The Alcoholic Anonymous organization adopted this teaching of St Francis and shortened it to the simple phrase: Wear the World Lightly. Their 12-step program for overcoming addiction uses lots of sayings to help people detach and overcome their addictions, phrases like: live and let live, let go and let God, turn it over, easy does it, and one day at a time.

All of these statements of detachment are not intended to send a message that we should be indifferent or dead to the world, or have no feelings at all. Rather their purpose is to teach people to face the world with a kind of mindful disengagement.

It is this “detachment with love” philosophy that can help motivate people to create a peaceful space within themselves, separated from the never-ending incoming arrows of uncertainty, fear, anger, and other painful events that plague our life. Practicing detachment helps people look past the daily shocks that occur, producing a change of attitude in the mind and a physical release in the body.

To wear the world as a loose garment is to acknowledge that the world and our life will always press at us and around us, but that it does not have to touch us but “lightly”. Most things are either outside our control or ultimately unimportant. 

We do not need to grasp, manage, dwell on or react to everything that happens to us. We can choose instead to keep the world at an emotional distance so we can stay focused on doing the next right thing. It is an attitude that can relax the body and relieve the mind of the poisonous emotions that overcome us when we are confronted by the people, places or things that beset us.

To be in the world but not of it, is to live and move through life without being emotionally attached to everything that happens. Life can get hard, but those who wear the world lightly learn how to live in the world with their hardships, neither fighting them nor being crushed by them.

St Francis was essentially encouraging us to not sweat the small stuff. To not get annoyed or depressed when life does not go your way or when you do not get what you want. When you have lived long enough you come to understand that most of the things that bother us are small potatoes. Even death apparently, which the Dalai Lama described as a simple change of clothes.

I’ve heard it said that the secret to happiness as we age “is to care less and less about more and more“. The wise elders I have been fortunate to know in my life carried that attitude with them; they tended to let fewer and fewer things bother them as they got older. It’s not because they didn’t care, most likely it was just that they discovered through their life experience that it is possible to walk away, without anger or agitation, from some things they felt passionate about – and still live.

I happened across an on-line sermon about this same topic of wearing the world lightly by Bishop Robert Barron. From a spiritual point of view, Bishop Barron also believes that St Francis’ famous statement was an attempt to teach his followers about the importance of detachment – especially from the goods and achievements of the world.

Not because the world itself is bad – there are all kinds of good, true and beautiful things in the world – but because the things of the world are not the ultimate good and we are not meant to cling to them as though they were.

There are stories throughout the Bible about the futility of clinging on to earthly power, riches and glory. King Solomon is one of the greatest figures in the history of Israel from a standpoint of wealth and power. He was somebody who had it all; nobody was richer, nobody was more famous, nobody had richer palaces or clothes. But, as an old man, looking at all the possessions he has acquired over his lifetime, he says: “Vanity of vanities, all things are vanity!“.

The word vanity in Hebrew signifies something that is insubstantial and momentary, like wind or vapor or bubbles; something that is here for a brief time and then it is gone. Solomon has experienced everything: power, sensual pleasure, wisdom, honor and wealth. He has built up a reserve of wealth through his knowledge and skills and yet when he is gone, he must leave all his property to others who have not labored over it and do not deserve it.

It is not uncommon to hear complaints like this from men as they become old and infirm; “I gave my whole life to my business, I worked hard and I made a fortune. Now I’m an old man and I’m surrounded by ungrateful children and grand-children; and I’ve done all this work and yet these people are going to inherit all my wealth. What’s it all been about“?

If you live to be old enough, at some point, you finally come to realize that everything in this world has a quality of evanescence – it disappears and does not last. It is a good thing if you have been successful and built up a fortune – but it’s not going to last. Because you are going to fade away and it’s all going to go to somebody else.

Should we just be depressed then? Father Barron says no, not depressed, instead we should be detached. Our wealth, power, pleasure and the esteem of other people. It’s good. We should take it in and then let it go. We should enjoy it the way you enjoy a firework going off. Learn to live in the present moment, savoring what we can, but then letting it go.

Why? Because we come to realize that the truly good and beautiful things belong to a higher world. We can sense them in the good things of this world but none of our earthly things last and so if we cling to them, what happens is they disappear, they crumble as we try to grasp at them. Rather see them, appreciate them and then let them go.

We can get caught in an addictive pattern when we cling to the goods of the world. You worry about them so you say to yourself, oh no I better get more. Instead, we would be wise to remember the cautionary parable of the rich fool told by Jesus:

“The ground of a certain rich man brought forth abundantly. He reasoned within himself, saying, ‘What will I do, because I don’t have room to store my crops?’ He said, ‘This is what I will do. I will pull down my barns, and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. I will tell my soul, “Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years. Take your ease, eat, drink, be merry.”‘ “But God said to him, ‘You fool, this very night your soul is required of you. The things which you have prepared— whose will they be?’

Luke 12:16-21

St Francis asks us to cultivate an attitude of detachment in our life. To stop clinging and hanging on to the things of the world. The more we cling to them, the more we become imprisoned by them. We’ll become bitter, angry , empty if our only focus is on the acquisition of ephemeral things. But if we practice the proper spiritual attitude of detachment and keep our eyes on the true and beautiful things that do not fade away then we will know how to handle the goods of the world as they come to us.

Fr Barron closes his sermon by emphasizing again that wealth in itself is not the problem. He points out that wealthy people can be saintly when they know how to use their wealth, how to wear it lightly and how to become generous with it. The only thing we take with us into the life to come is the quality of our love and what we’ve given away on earth. So, we should forget about trying to fill up our lives with bigger barns; true joy in life comes through building up our treasure in heaven.

The publication of this particular blog represents a milestone for me and the achievement of a goal I set for myself way back in 2013 when I posted my very first Words to Live By blog entry. I have been publishing this monthly blog for almost 10 years now and and have managed to author 100 different blog entries in that time.

I have attempted in this collection of postings to communicate ideas and philosophies that have helped me along the way and given my life direction and meaning. It has been a wonderful mental exercise for me and a labor of love that has helped me recognize things that make life interesting and wonderful. I hope my readers have discovered some of their own words to live by that will be of specific value to them in their own life.

In the spirit of “wearing the world lightly”, I plan to cut back on my blogging activities moving forward so that I am can devote more time focusing on doing the next right things in my life that will increase the quality of my love. I don’t plan to walk away from blogging completely though, as there are always more words to live by to be discovered and examined.

So, keep an eye out for the occasional future posting from me; and until then, may the blessings abound in your life.

“I do not understand; I pause; I examine”

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) has been recognized as one of the most significant philosophers of the 16th century. Born into a privileged family and raised during the period of the French Renaissance, he was educated in a private boarding school where all his lessons were taught in Latin. Because of his family’s great wealth, he was free to devote the first half of his life to jobs serving the public sector; including volunteering as a legal counselor, advisor to King Charles IX and mayor of the town of Bordeaux.

In 1571, at the age of 38, he retired from public life to his estate, where he isolated himself from all social and family affairs so that he could dedicate his time to reading, meditating, and writing. It was in his castle’s round library room – which contained more than 1,500 books – where Montaigne probed his mind and produced two highly influential books titled simply Essays; which he published in 1580. Montaigne wrote that “I am myself the matter of my book“, and his stated goal was to describe humans, and especially himself, with utter frankness.

Some of the key topics Montaigne explored in his various essays include:

• Mankind’s dangerously inflated claims to knowledge and certainty
• The assertion that there is no greater achievement than the ability to accept one’s limitations
• The problem of trying to locate truth in commonly accepted ideas that are false or unexamined – especially since many things we held yesterday as articles of faith today we know as fables.
• The importance of freeing ourselves from outside influences, customs and opinions
• His belief that the best path to understanding truth is by a careful exploration of one’s own body-and-mind.

Montaigne believed that the self, even with all its imperfections, was the best possible place to begin the search for truth, even though our identities can’t be defined as a stable thing because it is always changing. The most obvious example to him was the struggle of living with the infirmities of a human body. “Our bodies smell, ache, sag, pulse, throb and age regardless of the best desires of our mind“. It is only in acceptance of these traits that we can remain faithful to the truth of one’s being.

Montaigne isolated himself while writing his Essays but maintained the importance of maintaining contact with the outside world of other people and events because one can learn much that is useful from others. He described human beings as having a front room, facing the exterior street, where they meet and interact with others, but also with a back room where they are able to retreat back into their interior private self to reflect upon the vagaries of human experience and consider how it impacts their intimate identity.

Montaigne was refreshingly different from other philosophers and academics of his day who believed that their advanced powers of reason were a divine gift that gave them mastery over the world and a happiness that was denied to lesser educated creatures. He mocked those philosophers who were proud of their big brains and his writings come across as wise and intelligent – but also as modest and eager to debunk the pretensions of learning.

He wrote of his fellow academics and philosophers: “On our highest thrones in the world we are seated, still, on our arses” and, “…in practice, thousands of little women in their villages have lived more gentle, more equable and more constant lives than us.

He mocked books that were difficult to read. He found Plato boring and just wanted to have fun with books. “I’m not prepared to bash my brains out for anything, not even for learning’s sake – however precious it may be. If one book tires me, I just take up another“.

[note: I must admit that this sentiment makes me feel somewhat better about my decision to hold off reading the notorious difficult novel Ulysses by Irish writer James Joyce].

Montaigne was honest about the limitations and usefulness of his own intellect and attacked his prestigious academic friends for studying difficult things that were not useful to our lives.

“Difficulty is a coin which the learned conjure with so as not to reveal the vanity of their studies. Intellectuals would prefer you to study other people’s books way before we study our own minds. If man were wise, he would gauge the true worth of anything by its usefulness and appropriateness to his life”

I can’t help but wonder if Montaigne’s admiration for the working class – and life’s simple things – stemmed from the decision his humanist father made to leave him for three years when he was a small boy in the sole care of a peasant family in their town, in order to “draw the boy close to the people, and to the life conditions of the people, who need our help“.

Whatever the reason for his modest and humble personality, Montaigne comes across as one of the world’s first examples of a tolerant mind; a breath of fresh air in the cloistered and snobbish corridors of 16th century academia. He became an inspiration and encouragement to all those who felt put-upon and patronized by the arrogance of self-proclaimed clever people.

Montaigne tells us that each one of us is richer than we think. We may all arrive at wise ideas if we cease to think of ourselves as unsuited to the task just because we haven’t been classically trained or happen to lead an ordinary life.

The inscription Montagne had placed on the crown of the book shelf in his library was “I do not understand; I pause; I examine“. He had the inscription placed there to remind him of the limitations of his own knowledge and to caution him about the dangers that can result when one hastily forms opinions without careful consideration of all the facts.

Too many people today, especially since the advent of social media – which allows anybody to pass themselves off as experts – form their beliefs by adopting commonly accepted ideas or by making broad generalizations. Outside influences and political talking points trigger knee-jerk reactions from those who fail to take the time to study all sides of a topic – or to consider what is the truth and what is morally just.

It would be refreshing if more of us today, before forming our opinions, would like Montaigne, acknowledge the limitations of our knowledge, admit that we don’t fully understand a topic and then take time to examine all aspects of the issues in question using qualified experts in the field as our guides.

The danger of operating a society with uninformed or half-informed subjects was identified as early as the 2nd century by the Roman writer Publilius Syrus who said that it is “Better to be ignorant of a matter than to half know it“.

Today there are so many competing sources of information, where anyone with a computer can offer their uninformed opinions. Few people check the credentials of writers or the authenticity of the facts, and foreign actors can easily spread misinformation along via unregulated social networks.

The next time we are asked to form an opinion or make a decision about subjects we do not fully understand, we would do well to follow the sage advice of Montaigne: Do not let somebody else speak for you and do not fall prey to the pressures of biased outside influences. Instead take a moment to pause, study all sides of the issue, consult qualified experts and sources, and endeavor to reach true understanding.

If you can summon the conviction and discipline to do this, then you will be able to take solace knowing that even though you can not govern external events, you at least govern yourself.

I feel Alive when I’m Doing it

When the American poet and essayist Louise Glück was awarded the 2020 Nobel Prize in Literature “for her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal“; I was intrigued to learn more about her.

I was not familiar with Glück or her work even though she had published 13 books of well-received poetry over a 52 year span, served as Poet Laureate of the United States in 2003 and was the recipient of numerous literary awards – including the the Pulitzer Prize, the National Humanities Medal, the National Book Critics Circle Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and the Bollingen Prize.

While looking into Glück’s background, I learned that she was born in New York City in 1943 and raised on Long Island. Glück’s mother was of Russian Jewish descent and her father’s parents were Hungarian Jews who emigrated to the United States and ran a grocery store in New York.

Glück’s father had an ambition to become a writer, but went into business with his brother-in-law and achieved success when they invented the X-Acto knife. Glück’s mother was a graduate of Wellesley College. In her childhood, her parents taught Louise Greek Mythology and classic stories such as the life of Joan of Arc – themes of which she would mine in many of her later poems.

She began to write poetry at an early age, but as a teenager and young adult Glück struggled with anorexia. She described the illness as the result of an effort to assert her independence from her mother and as a way for her to come to terms with the illness and death of an of an elder sister. 

During the fall of her senior year she was taken out of high school to focus on her rehabilitation. She spent the next seven years in psychoanalytic therapy which she credited with helping her learn how to think and overcome her anorexia. During this time period she attended classes at Sarah Lawrence College and Columbia University and worked part time as a secretary – which she said did not suit her temperamentally.

Glück has been married twice, both marriages ending in divorce, and has one son. She currently lives in Cambridge Massachusetts and is an adjunct professor at Yale University.

While the subjects of Glück’s poems are wide and varied, scholars have identified the most common themes in her work as trauma, death, loss, suffering, failed relationships, and attempts at healing and renewal.

The scholar Daniel Morris observed that even a Glück poem that uses traditionally happy imagery still “suggests the author’s awareness of mortality, of the loss of innocence“. The writer Linda Rodriguez noted that “Her poetry explores the intimate drama of family tragedies resonating through the generations and the relationship between human beings and their creator.”

Glück utilizes her focus on trauma as a gateway to a greater appreciation of life says Carol Malone, writing for the Best American Poetry 2020 book, and uses her acceptance of mortality as a way to become a more fully realized human being.

I listened to a 2012 Academy of Achievement interview with Louise Glück that I found very thoughtful. When asked why she still writes, Gluck responded:

“Because I feel alive when I’m doing it and much less alive when I’m not doing it. I write to discover meaning… It’s much less about who I am than the idea that nothing should be wasted. Also, writing is a kind of revenge against circumstance too. Bad luck, loss, pain; if you make something out of it then you are no longer bested by the events.”

It’s that kind of thinking, I believe, that allows Glück to be brutally honest in her poetry. She is not writing for her audience per se, but for herself. To make herself feel more alive, to make sense of her experiences and to wrestle even the negative circumstances of her life into something positive.

Later in the interview, when she is asked how she feels about the accolades and awards she has received for her work, she responds:

“They are nice and make life more comfortable. But what I want is not capable of being had in my lifetime. I want to live after I die, in that ancient way, and there will be no knowing until that happens – no matter how many blue ribbons I have attached to my corpse.”

There is a maturity and wisdom in her recognition of the vanity of earthly awards, and of their ultimate meaningless in the face of eternity. It will remain a mystery what the afterlife has in store for Louise Glück, but, I like to think that it is certain she will continue to live on through the striking poems she leaves behind.

One such striking poem I came across while browsing through her Collected Works 1962-2012 is titled New World:

New World Poem by Elizabeth Gluck

This poem made me think about my general reluctance to wander far from home – and how my preference to focus more on the interior life than the exterior life may have contributed to “holding down” my more exuberant life companions.

Because my engineering and marketing career necessitated frequent travel, I came to realize early on that travel is overrated. It seemed to me the best part of most journeys is that moment when you finally return to the comforts of home.

I am not alone in this sentiment. It was Blaise Pascal’s opinion that all human evil comes from man’s inability to sit still in his room; and Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote in his book Self-Reliance: “Travelling is a fool’s paradise, our first journey’s discover to us the indifference of places… Our minds travel when our bodies are forced to stay at home”.

Reading this poem reminded me that it is important for me to temper my preference for the quiet and contemplative life with a spirit of adventure as well – because I don’t want to be the lead strapped to the ankles of my beloved family or the wet blanket that prevents them from experiencing adventures that contribute to making life memorable and interesting.

Life is a balance and being a recluse can blind you to all that the world has to offer. Also, what good does it do to be floating free if there is no one to share it with?

Today, Louise Gluck lives in Cambridge MA but she has spoken in the past about falling in love with the state of Vermont when she first moved there in 1971 to begin teaching at Goddard College. She credits the move as being instrumental in helping her get past her writer’s block.

Tragically, a fire destroyed her Vermont house in 1980 resulting in the loss of all her possessions. After the fire, Louise reluctantly moved from the state where she felt so much at home.

When the reporters asked her what she intended to do with the $1.1 million dollar award money that came with winning the Nobel Prize, it made me smile when she said she was thinking of buying a house in Vermont.

Enjoy Vermont Ms Gluck – I hope you feel very alive there and maybe I will be lucky enough to bump into you someday during my New World travels to that magical Green Mountain state to visit with my beloved family connections.

The Eye is the Jewel of the Body

I have been battling a stubborn eye infection for the past 6 weeks. It started with symptoms of redness, swelling, weeping and tenderness in my left eye. Within two weeks my right eye also became infected – eventually becoming worse than my left eye.

To complicate matters, this infection happened to occur during the peak of the coranavirus pandemic – which made it very challenging to meet with doctors and schedule health care appointments.

I managed to book a remote tele-health appointment with my primary care physician, who guessed that I had some form of bacterial conjunctivitis. He prescribed a 7 day course of both oral and eye drop antibiotics that he believed would clear up the infection.

At the end of my seven day treatment, however, my eye infections were really no better. I scheduled a second tele-health visit with another physician who prescribed a different eye drop treatment that contained a more powerful antibiotic.

As soon as I began the new treatment my eye condition became dramatically worse . My eyes began to water constantly and the eyelids became so inflamed and swollen that I could barely open them. My eyes looked and felt as though they had been through a losing 15 round boxing match.

Panicking a little at this development, I began to put double doses of the eye drops in my eyes, hoping that the extra antibiotics would hasten my recovery from the infection. But this only seemed to make my condition worse.

At this point, my doctor recommended that I visit my nearest Urgent Care facility to have my eyes examined. The doctor there believed that my body was having an allergic reaction to the antibiotic eye drops which was causing my eyelids to swell and my eye ducts to become clogged. I was told to discontinue my current treatment immediately and see an eye specialist.

Fortunately, I was able to get an office appointment with an eye doctor who looked at my eyes under a microscope and swabbed them to determine what type of bacteria was the culprit. Based on the examination, I was prescribed a combined steroid/antibiotic treatment and instructed to regularly massage my eyes with hot compresses to help open up the clogged eye ducts.

It was a relief when my eyes began to slowly improve under the positive effects of this new treatment and I am thankful that my eyes have almost returned back to their normal condition.

The whole experience though has given me a greater appreciation of the role the eyes play in our daily life and how important they are to our overall well-being. As Shakespeare observed in Romeo & Juliet “He that is stricken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost“.

Picture Courtesy of Colin Maynard @invent

A number of emotions and concerns took root in my mind while I was battling the course of this malady:

Vanity – According to Henry David Thoreau “The eye is the jewel of the body” and the eyes are indeed the focal point of human relationships – and usually the first thing we notice when we encounter somebody new. It is considered a sign of respect and good manners in our society to look directly into a person’s eyes when you greet them.

So you can imagine that during my ailment I became very self-conscious of my appearance and was reluctant to be seen in public without covering my eyes with sunglasses. My own wife suddenly shrank from my embrace and jokingly began calling me lizard eye.

Because one of the symptoms of the Covid-19 virus happens to be inflamed eyes, the people I encountered seemed to become especially nervous around me. Believe me when I say that once people had a good look at my face they went out of their way to keep socially distant from me.

Fear – As my eye condition continued to deteriorate and stubbornly resisted all forms of treatment despite the use of powerful antibiotics, I began to experience feelings of fear and anxiety over the inability to use my eyes during my everyday routines. I started wondering if there were a real possibility that the illness might cause some kind of permanent damage to my eyesight.

My right eyelid became so swollen that I could only pull it open using my fingers and both eyes watered so much that my vision became very blurry. It became difficult and uncomfortable to do all the everyday ordinary things that requires functioning eyesight (like reading a book, watching a show, working on the computer or tying a fishing knot).

It forced me to consider in the back of my mind how different life would be and how my daily activities would need to change dramatically in order to live with diminished eyesight.

Magnification of other senses – Studies have shown that people who are blind tend to have enhanced abilities in their other senses. Detailed brain scans comparing the brains of people who are blind to the brains of people who are not blind show that individuals with impaired sight have heightened senses of hearing, smell and touch.

I’m not claiming that my other senses increased to superpower levels to compensate for the deterioration of my eyesight – my loss was too short term to re-wire my brain – but what I can say is that my malfunctioning sense of sight caused me to focus more on my other senses and to derive increased pleasure from them.

I closed my eyes and amused myself by listening to music and audio books, I delighted more in the smell of the pleasant scents wafting in the breezy Spring air and in the satisfying mix of flavors in my food, I relished the feel of soaking in the tub and submerging my tender eyes in the warm water.

Now that my eyes are on the mend I must remember that I am failing to appreciate the fullness of life when I let one or more of my senses dominate at the expense of the others.

Simultaneously employing all our senses in concert to their full capacity helps us to live our life in High Definition with Surround Sound quality rather than the limiting Black & White and Mono soundtrack experiences that are provided by the individual senses.

Compassion and Empathy – When we are in the bloom of health, it is human nature for us not to think about the difficulties that other people living with disabilities and impairments must face during the course of their daily life.

My brief encounter with sight impairment gave me a new appreciation for people who must live permanently with one or more disabilities that makes living inconvenient and challenging.

We are told it is a healthy practice to count our blessings and to have a grateful heart. Most people when they count their blessings only think about how grateful they are for the good things in their life. This experience has reminded me that it is equally important for me to be thankful for the afflictions that I have been spared.

When our lives are not burdened by birth defects, diseases, sicknesses, poverty or addictions we find it difficult to show compassion or relate to those who struggle with one or more of these issues every day.

It is good every now and then to put yourself in the shoes of those who are walking a hard road and to remind yourself how you would like to be treated if you were in their shoes – because someday you may be.

As unpleasant as my adventure with this eye infection has been, it has also been a positive learning experience because it has given me a new perspective about the vanity of vanity, forced me to confront and overcome my fears, reminded me to use all my senses to their full capacity and encouraged me to treat with compassion all those who are living with handicaps.

I know that my eyes will eventually fail me as I age, just like the rest of my body will, but I do believe the overall vision I gained from this experience will stay with me until the very end.

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!”

In the book “Winesburg, Ohio”, a collection of short stories published in 1919, author Sherwood Anderson reveals the individual struggles of  the inhabitants of a small Ohio town as they try to reconcile their day to day lives with their roles in the community and their ambitions for the future.

The reader gradually discovers how the lives of each of the inhabitants intersect with one another and by the end of the book Anderson has painted a masterful portrait of the life of an alternating complex, lonely, joyful and strange American town.

While exposing the innermost thoughts of the character George Willard, a young man working as the town’s newspaper reporter, Anderson writes a very insightful commentary about the inner workings of a young mind as it begins to transition into manhood.

“George Willard, the Ohio village boy, was fast growing into manhood and new thoughts were coming into his mind… The mood that had taken possession of him was a thing known to men and unknown to boys.

There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood. The boy is walking the street of his town. He is thinking of the future and of the figure he will cut in the world. Ambitions and regrets awake within him. Suddenly something happens, he stops under a tree and waits as for a voice calling his name.

Ghosts of old things creep into his consciousness; the voices outside of himself whisper a message concerning the limitations of life. From being quite sure of himself and his future he becomes not at all sure.

If he be an imaginative boy a door is torn open and for the first time he looks out upon the world, seeing, as though they marched in procession before him, the countless figures of men who before his time have come out of nothingness into the world, lived their lives and again disappeared into nothingness. The sadness of sophistication has come to the boy.

With a little gasp he sees himself as merely a leaf blown by the wind through the streets of his village. He knows that in spite of all the stout talk of his fellows he must live and die in uncertainty, a thing blown by the winds, a thing destined like corn to wilt in the sun.

He shivers and looks eagerly about. The years he has lived seem but a moment, a breathing space in the long march of humanity. Already he hears death calling. With all his heart he wants to come close to some other human, touch someone with his hands, be touched by the hand of another… He wants most of all understanding.“

Anderson’s striking observation struck a chord of recognition with me because I can remember when this transition happened in my life. It was after I ventured off to college, leaving behind the comfort of my own small town and the loving protection of my parents. It was then that I began to study and think about all the great thinkers, theologians and scholars that came before me and how their lives had contributed to human progress.

Like the character George Willard, I began to think backward for the first time in my life. I realized that all of those great men and women who inspired us with their accomplishments were now gone – countless figures who came out of nothingness into the world, lived their lives and again disappeared into nothingness. The limitations of life began to become startlingly clear.

My professor of Medieval Literature studies was especially influential and enthusiastic about exposing me to the different philosophies and spiritual themes behind the great works of the middle ages – and describing how those writers grappled with trying to understand the meaning of life and their place in it.

He shared the despair felt by the pious man Geoffrey Chaucer as he considered his great work The Canterbury Tales; recognizing his book was a masterpiece, but also acknowledging that the work fell short and was ultimately meaningless; saying “What does it matter in the face of eternity“.

Shakespeare also brought readers face to face with the deepest questions about the pain and emptiness of life in Macbeth describing our existence as meaningless; “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing”.

The idea of the meaningless of life was a theme Solomon used in the Book of Ecclesiastes. He wrote “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity“. The word vanity as used by Solomon does not represent pride or vainglory. The Hebrew meaning for the word “Vanity” translates to vapor or breath, so Solomon was really trying to convey that all things are like a breath – short, impermanent and passing.

Unlike most other books in the Bible which teach about the meaning of life, Solomon in Ecclesiastes instead points a finger at the whole world and declares it meaningless. The world has no satisfaction in the end and all our accomplishments will be forgotten. He shares the same sentiment that his father before him, King David, expressed in Psalm 103:

“The life of mortals is like grass,
  they flourish like a flower of the field;
  the wind blows over it and it is gone,
  and its place remembers it no more.”

Solomon presents us with the problem of what it means to be human. We search high and low for answers to a gnawing fear inside us that we’re alone, that all of life is useless and we’ll just end up six feet under ground with no one to remember us. Solomon stares this fear in the face, offering up the most despairing of answers—there is no answer:

“I have seen all things that are done under the sun, and behold all is vanity, and vexation of spirit.“ – Ecclesiastes 1:14

The effect all this deep questioning had on that young college kid coming of age was bracing. It did not cause me to despair because my faith and my upbringing provided me with an innate certainty that life does have meaning and purpose. But it did change my outlook on life in a profound way.

It made me realize that life was short and that no one is indispensable. It motivated me to put away childish things, focus on things of substance and appreciate each day. It reminded me to avoid selfishness knowing that whatever I accomplished or how much wealth I accumulated, it would die with me.

The biggest effect this change of thinking had on me, however, was the same one it had on George Willard. It made me want with all my heart to come close to some other human, to touch someone with my hands, to be touched by the hand of another. To find understanding with another soul. I reasoned that if you mean something to someone, and someone means something to you, then life can never be meaningless.

I was blessed to find that someone in College, that understanding with another human that brought life wonderful purpose and meaning; and even though that relationship was finite, as all relationships must be, the good news is that there are an unlimited number of  humans out there looking for understanding and love.

My advice is to venture out and mean something to someone – and in the end, your life will have meaning.