Shores of Purpose

philosophy

What is the meaning of life? In this mini-essay I discuss why this question should be re-phrased, and I attempt to describe the most common solutions that there are. You, the captain of your ship, traversing the vast ocean of life, reflect on the current methods of answering this question by deciding how and where to sail.

The “meaning of life” is one of the most searched for answers in all of humanity, it is something that regardless of the culture we search for. However, I think that it is inherently flawed. Meaning denotes a purpose; this is why also the question is referred to as “what is the purpose of life”. The problem with this question is that you are already assuming that there is a purpose. I think that there isn’t, because why would there be. The question, then instead should be “what do I want to do with my life?”.

First, I want to preface this by saying that the ideas and views that I have right now are heavily influenced by the few authors that I have skimmed over and that talked about this same topic. This is why you will find me agreeing with the stances of Nietzsche, Kirkegaard and Camus. Regardless, I hope that I bring a unique perspective, that even though pales in comparison to the greatest philosophical minds, can be an insightful read.

You are the captain of a boat, sailing through the crashing waves in a stormy night. You are fighting against the towering waves, but you are not alone. Maybe some other boats accompany you in your journey. They provide you comfort, company, and say where you should go, where you should head. But you are in the middle of the ocean, and without any reference point to find any meaningful way to measure the progress of arriving at that place where they claim to sail to. Many of them say that if you follow their path, you will arrive at a heavenly shore, where the sun shines, no clouds in the sky, and where you can rest after your voyage. The days pass by, then weeks, months and years, and at some point, you start to question this whole ordeal. It hasn’t been daytime in years, and all you have done is sail, seemingly towards a shore or somewhere, but really? You haven’t really arrived at it yet, and you can see none in the horizon. Surprisingly, lighthouses appear in the horizon, serving as a beacon for boats to sail to. They are years of sailing away, hardly even spottable with the naked eye, but they seem to be there. Everyone says that those lighthouses are where the land begins, and where sun will shine. And so, you follow them. You and the rest of the boats, follow the path towards the lighthouse. After many years of travel you realize that the lighthouse was standing in a small island in the middle of the ocean. It’s light shining bright, worthy of the lighthouse of a coastal capital. The bricks of the lighthouse, however, are almost transparent, almost as if made by glass, almost as if it were an illusion. It sits on a sharp rock, completely inaccessible, as if it wasn’t ever meant for anyone to set foot on it. It appears distant yet in front of you.

At this point is some questions start to appear. Why wouldn’t the rest of the lighthouses be like this one? Where are we even going? Is there even a shore? What is this sea? In all these years of sailing you haven’t even acknowledged that there was an infinite ocean below you, it just seemed to natural, so utterly trivial that you hadn’t ever glanced down at it. But as soon as you lower your eyes to look at the depths of it, you see nothing but darkness, infinite darkness. Your hair rises and your heart freezes in time. There isn’t any kraken or Cthulhu hiding in the depths. It is just the sterile metric tons of water that are frightening. No fish, no plants, nothing. Emptiness of infinite depth, where if you tried to reach the bottom, you would just sink deeper and deeper without ever reaching the end of it, never being able to stand on the sea floor.

Frightened by this first glance, you decide that it’s better to search for another lighthouse. Others don’t seem to care that the lighthouses so far have only led to tiny inaccessible islands, and they say that the next one for sure will be in a shore. So, you immediately set sail to the next one.

During the travel, most of the veteran folks swear by it that it exists, that it is attached to a beach, you just can’t see it because of the darkness and the fog, making it almost impossible, without the outmost hardest thought to see past the fog. And even then, it seems that what you can see are merely artifacts of your vision and mind, playing games on you. Never certain if you saw something or not. The fog is endlessly thick.

During the way you remember that glance that you took at the ocean, and reflect whether it is possible, for an infinite deep ocean to have any piece of land attached to it. You arrive at the conclusion that it doesn’t. How could that be the case? There is no solid land, and subsequently, no shore waiting for you. What shall you do then? Realizing that there is no north star to guide you. And even if there was, it would be occluded by the clouds in the sky. What is then the purpose of this journey? Why are we even sailing? Is it even worth to continue sailing? Why have you been following the journey of the other ships? If there is no stationary land of reference, how to you know that you are even moving at all?

You are not the only one that has dared to look into the endless depths of the ocean. But different sailors react different to the sight.  Most of them have been scared and decided that it would be best to not think about it too much, and continue doing what they were doing, following the rest to the next scheduled lighthouse like you have done so far. Others have stared too long at the abyss and sunk the boat. What is then the best way to traverse the waters? Is this a journey if it doesn’t seem to have any destination? Should we believe and follow the path to reach the paradisiac shore? Should we just accept that there is no destination and follow the rest because glancing again at the depths is too uncomfortable? Or shall we become the abyss?

After thoughtful consideration it would be possible to arrive at the conclusion that since there is no destination, why even bother with the direction. Why become attached to the boat and the rest of the boats at all? Why bother reaching the lighthouses if they are built by the dreams and hopes of the sailors that reach them? A sailor like that would become the personification of the abyss. Not sink in it, but rather see the world from the eyes of the abyss. Uncaring, unforgiving, sterile of any emotion or any resemblance to those that sail it.

Another option, however, is to create our own lighthouses. Acknowledging that they are artificial, constructed, but by the self. Meaningless, but the only true point of reference in this vast ocean world. Flickering, non-conclusive, but steady enough for guidance. The task would be set to yourself to create your own subjective path of personal lighthouses, completely detached from any real values from the ocean. Important, to oneself.

Finally, there is the option to become yourself your own beacon. Travel endlessly and freely through the ocean. Without any goals at all, just the travel itself; for, with a powerful lantern on the front of the ship, any direction is equally valid without needing any justification of any lighthouse. When you are the beacon, you can forget about seeking it, and instead focus solely on the mindless journey, even more free and arbitrary than the self-created lighthouses. In this state, one would be able to enjoy the waves and the salty water, as this would become the un-written goal. Freedom at last, reconciling peace with the endless vastness without becoming itself. Still being a floating boat. Completely free from any shackles, neither those imposed by others nor the self.

The path of becoming a beacon is hard, requires a lot of thoughtful consideration about the ocean and the self, immense reflection and introspection, being able to in a way abandon all social constructs to become the truest image of oneself, in a sense being over all men. Übermensch.