What Does It Mean?

Meaning, I was reminded this morning, is not something we find, but something we make.

We construct meaning out of events in our lives, books we read, films we see. We weave it together from dreams, memories, and photographs on our phone.

Sometimes we change the sequence of elements with which we construct meaning. We might start with the tragic and end with hope. Or begin with hope and set everything else to the side.

Making anything can be inspiring, a burden, and exhausting. We might even set the task to the side for a while. But I don’t think the question ever really leaves us, and is maybe one of the most important things that we do. And that’s to ask, what do we make of this? What do we make of this life and what does is it mean?

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