Meaning

“Everything depends upon its relationship to everything else for its meaning.”
Nick Harkaway, Gnomon

The word ‘meaning’ has a number of meanings pertinent to our discussion. First, there is the ‘meaning of life’, a ‘meaning’ that has challenged philosophers and spiritual thinkers since the beginning of recorded human history. Tackling the question of the meaning of life is way above my pay grade, and therefore it will not be dealt with in this work (other than a brief comment below). Then, there is the question of ‘meaning in life’. The quest for meaning in life is an exclusively human phenomenon that is very relevant to the pursuit of happiness; therefore, it will be explored in some detail in the following. Lastly, there is the ‘meaning’ of the experiences in life (for example — the meaning of a noise coming from the other room, the meaning of a look someone gave you, or the meaning of the words you are reading now). This ‘meaning’ has a significant functional implication which, in turn, impacts the pursuit of happiness, and thus it is explored in the following.

Be that as it may, here’s the takeaway conclusion of this chapter:

Meaning in life can be found through learning, creating, and loving.

(If this is obvious to you, you might consider skipping the rest of this chapter. On the other hand, you might want to continue reading, especially if this is obvious to you, as it is just possible you will find a meaning in it.)

The Meaning of ‘Meaning’

Information that has no meaning is difficult for the human brain to handle. Its meaninglessness renders it useless, yet it can be hard to discard; moreover, its mere presence is an unsettling reminder of the brain’s limitations, adding to the ambient anxiety level and baseline discomfort. It is not surprising that the brain invests a lot of resources in discovering the ‘meaning’ of everything it perceives as a component of ‘Reality.’ When the brain is unable to find this ‘meaning’, it will usually manufacture it — make something up that serves as ‘meaning’ (or embrace an external source’s offering of meaning).

For example, consider the myriad of humanity’s ancient gods that were created to explain observed natural phenomena (e.g., from cosmological and meteorological to reproductive events) that were otherwise meaningless. With scientific advances, better ‘meanings’ were discovered for many of these phenomena, rendering, in many instances, the gods unnecessary. Indeed, the historical animosity between the world’s leading religions and science, that persists to the present, seems less peculiar against the backdrop of the competition for the title of the reliable explanatory source of the ‘meaning’ of ‘Reality.’

But what exactly is this ‘meaning’?

Consulting various dictionaries, one finds that ‘Meaning’ is associated with the following:

(1) ‘Importance’ and ‘significance’, as in — that which is meaningless is unimportant or insignificant. This implies that ‘meaning’ imparts value: A ‘thing’ itself is not the source of its value, its meaning is! A seemingly valueless ‘thing’ may have a ‘meaning’ that renders it priceless. For example, a coat button in-and-of itself has little value. However, when it is found at a crime scene and leads to someone’s criminal conviction, it acquires a meaning that gives it considerable value to all who are involved. Similarly, a dog’s bark in-and-of itself does not have a value. However, a dog’s bark that fends off a predator imparts a meaning to it that gives it great value.

(2) ‘Aim’, as in — the ‘meaning’ of a behavior is in what it aims to accomplish. This implies that ‘meaning’ is not obviously apparent — it is a potential. The ‘thing’ itself (i.e., an object or a process) is overt, its ‘meaning’ (i.e., what it can potentially bring into reality) is covert. Indeed, the language we use when we talk about ‘meaning’, e.g., ‘discovering’ or ‘finding’ it, is indicative of its hidden nature.

(3) ‘Sense’, as in — that which is meaningless “doesn’t make sense”. In other words, ‘meaning’ is linked to sensibility, i.e., rationality and logic. The sensibility conveyed by the discovery of ‘meaning’ provides a rational explanation for the events that constitute Reality.

‘Meaning’ then is a type of hidden information about reality. Its unveiling — i.e., the discovery of ‘meaning’, reveals the importance, potential, and rational underpinnings of the objects or events that constitute the reality perceived by our senses. Access to this information — i.e., the correct understanding of the ‘meaning’ of a given facet of reality is directly proportional to the efficacy of interacting with it.

The fact that ‘meaning’ is information that needs to be discovered, i.e., it is hidden, implies that it exists on a different plane from the plane on which the immediately accessible experience of reality takes place. This obviously raises the question: What is that plane? Where is ‘meaning’ “stored”? Not surprisingly, it is hidden in plain sight: ‘Meaning’ is found in the causality that constitutes reality. I’ll explain: Consider reality as an infinite weave of cause-and-effect strands. Everything in Reality has a past — a preceding set of conditions, which include the causes of all that follows, and a future — an ensuing set of conditions which are the effects. In other words, all that exists is an effect, a product of earlier causes, and a cause of subsequent effects. “Mapping” the cause-and-effect connections surrounding a given aspect of reality — i.e., plotting the path from its ‘prior’ to the ‘ensuing’ conditions, reveals its ‘meaning’. 

‘Objective reality’ is picked up by the nervous system’s various receptors (e.g., eyes, ears, etc.). The receptors produce signals that transmit the information captured “upward” through the brain, ultimately arriving in the cerebral cortex, where the (integrated) information carried in these signals registers as ‘subjective reality’.

Along the way, the information carried in the signals undergoes heavy processing. Part of the data processing is devoted to decoding its causal connections (i.e., determining the causes and effects), which registers in consciousness as the ‘meaning’ of the incoming data.

This ‘meaning’ is the key determinant of the information’s importance (or significance), implications (or aim), and rational underpinnings (or sensibility).

The discovered ‘meaning’ guides choice-making, i.e., the individual’s behavioral interactions with reality. Obviously, attaching the correct ‘meaning’ to the incoming information is of the utmost importance — the effectiveness of one’s functioning (i.e., interacting with reality) depends on it. 

Let’s quickly refocus on our topic: ‘Meaning’ is the information encoded in the causal connections that link a point in reality with the preceding and the ensuing rest of reality. 

And here’s the brief comment about the ‘meaning of life’ advertised at the beginning of this section: The ‘meaning of life’ is outside the possible spectrum of this (or, in my opinion, any rational) discussion because, consistent with the definition of ‘meaning’, to understand the ‘meaning of life’ one needs to be able to appreciate the causality surrounding life — i.e. that which preceded (and caused) life and that which is caused by it. In other words, knowing the ‘meaning of life’ requires a view that extends beyond life. This puts the question of the ‘meaning of life’ firmly in the realm of metaphysics. It may be the domain of speculative philosophy and spirituality, but it is irrelevant to this work. The question of ‘meaning in life’, however, is internal to the experience of life. It is also central to the pursuit of happiness and thus well within the scope of this work.

Refocusing on the meaning in life — modern medicine is a source of ample examples that illustrate the meaning of meaning, as it is founded on discovering the meaning of phenomena through exploring their surrounding causal sequence of events.

Clarifying the ‘meaning’ of medical problems, i.e., correctly mapping their relevant causal connections, enables the assessment of the problems’ severity (significance), prognosis (implications), and underlying pathological mechanism (rational underpinnings). In addition, the ‘meaning’ of a medical problem also provides a foundation for its treatment, i.e., the meaning guides relevant decision-making.

For instance, the meaning of a skin rash (the event) that appears following the use of a new detergent (the cause) and begins to fade after discontinuing its use (the effect) is likely to be trivial — a local allergic reaction to one of the detergent’s ingredients. Usually, this is not a severe problem; its prognosis is excellent, as it is a localized skin immune reaction, and treatment typically involves discontinuing the use of the offending detergent. A skin rash (the event) that starts after the first few doses of a new prescription medication (the cause) is likely to have a much more ominous meaning; it can be a severe, potentially life-threatening problem caused by a systemic autoimmune reaction (the effect). The treatment, beyond the immediate discontinuation of the offensive medication, involves medical monitoring and may require some form of immunosuppressive treatment. Additionally, future use of the causative medication (as well as similar drugs) must be cautiously avoided for the rest of the patient’s life. 

The meaning of sharp chest pain (the event) that begins following the consumption of a large pizza and a six-pack of beer (the cause), and resolves after taking a couple of Tums (the effect) is likely to be gastric acid reflux into the esophagus (GERD). Generally, it is not considered a life-threatening medical problem and does not require emergency treatment. Broader and deeper meanings may relate to the importance of making good dietary choices and the value of moderation in life, respectively.

The meaning of chest pain (the event) that begins following an hour of snow shoveling (the cause) is likely to be an underlying coronary artery disease. Obviously, this is a serious, potentially lethal (the effect) medical problem that typically requires urgent, intensive treatment. Broader and deeper meanings in this case may have to do with the importance of regular exercise and preventative health care. 

The meaning of the discovery of antiviral antibodies (the object) in the bloodstream of patients that recovered from a COVID-19 infection is that the exposure to the virus (the cause) triggers a protective immune-system response (the effect). A broader meaning may be that exposure to the virus causes immunity — i.e., that the same patients will not get sick if they are re-exposed to the virus. A deeper meaning of this discovery is that immunity to the virus can be elicited by a vaccine. 

As illustrated by these examples, a given single phenomenon has more than a single true ‘meaning‘. A shift in the positions of the ‘cause’ and the ‘effect’ around a given point in reality — i.e., from narrow to wide, or from superficial to deep — will expose different ‘meanings’. In other words: Different points of view yield different but potentially equally valid ‘meanings’ to the same reality.

This is an important realization to keep in mind: Different ‘meanings’ of a single phenomenon can be equally valid. One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.

However, this is not to say that different ‘meanings’ of the same phenomenon are necessarily equally valid. One man’s terrorist is not another man’s penguin.

‘Meanings’ generated by misinterpretations of causal connections are invalid: Autoimmune reactions, heart attacks, and antivirus antibodies are not the effects of a non-kosher diet or of skipping church on Sundays, regardless of their temporal relationships. Superstitious beliefs are similarly worthless — crossing the path of a black cat, breaking a mirror, or knocking on wood, for example, may be temporally, but cannot be causally, related to the ensuing events, and therefore they cannot be a source of valid ‘meaning’. The validity of ‘meaning’ is a function of the accuracy of its causality “mapping”.

Since, as a rule, even radically different ‘meanings’ may have equal validity, a reliable appreciation of reality requires maintaining an open mind. At the same time, since different ‘meanings’ are not necessarily equally valid, a reliable appreciation of reality also requires a degree of skepticism, i.e., an awareness that nothing is above doubt but the room for doubt (more on this in the following).

Meaning and Purpose

‘Meaning’ and ‘purpose’ are closely related concepts. Not surprisingly then, pondering the purpose of life, like the question of the meaning of life, is far outside the realm of this work. Conversely, the quest for purpose in life is very relevant to the pursuit of happiness, and therefore, to this work.

The causality that surrounds an event and holds its ‘meaning’ can be designed. ‘Purpose’ is the design behind such ‘meaning’. The ‘meaning’ and the ‘purpose’ of a given ‘thing’ (i.e., a given point in reality) are closely related; insight into one reveals something about the other: Understanding the ‘purpose’ of a ‘thing’ sheds light onto its ‘meaning’; understanding the ‘meaning’ of a ‘thing’ sheds light onto its ‘purpose’.

To illustrate the connection between ‘meaning’ and ‘purpose,’ consider the following thought experiment: Imagine that an intelligent extraterrestrial race, utterly different from the one we call Human (let’s say they are so different they don’t have physical bodies), discovered Earth and started monitoring human activity from afar. They notice that humans construct and then go in and out of stationary structures referred to as ‘buildings.’ After monitoring our species for a while, they figured that the purpose of these structures is to protect humans from the elements. The correct understanding of the purpose of these structures, buildings, can lead to an understanding of the different meanings behind it. For starters, understanding the purpose of buildings reveals that humans are sensitive to the ambient temperature and prefer to function within a certain range of temperatures. Additionally, the purpose of buildings suggests that humans prefer to be dry rather than wet. By extension, the purpose of buildings also means that humans will invest considerable effort and resources to have their preferences met.

Next, our studious aliens notice that humans create smaller, mobile structures referred to as ‘cars’. They get into one of these structures at one place and disembark at another. After more monitoring, they realize that the purpose of cars is to transport humans over greater distances and at greater speeds than they are capable of unaided. With some contemplation of the purpose of cars, they should be able to uncover some of the relevant meanings thereof. For example, the fact that humans value having influence over their physical position, which is another way to say that humans value freedom. Or, that humans prefer fast movement over moving slowly, which in turn means that humans attribute a value to time. 

The link between ‘meaning’ and ‘purpose’ is bidirectional, i.e., insight into one reveals the other. So, if our alien monitors somehow knew these ‘meanings’ a priori (that is, that humans prefer to live within a certain temperature range and to stay dry), the purpose of ‘buildings’ — to offer temperature control and dryness — would be easy to ascertain. Similarly, the purpose of cars would be readily evident if our aliens knew in advance that humans attribute a value to the ability to influence their position in space and to the speed of their movement. 

Understanding the ’cause’ and ‘effect’ relationship does not, however, guarantee the correct appreciation of ‘purpose’. For example, our curious extraterrestrials may notice that when a human lets go of an object (say, a cup of tea) said object makes its way to the ground where it may disintegrate. The correct appreciation of the causality around the event (letting go of the cup is the ’cause’ and the cup shattering is the ‘effect’) is not going to lead to an accurate appreciation of its purpose. The correct ‘meaning’ of the observed ‘tea-cup incident’ (as it may become known to the aliens) is that humans (and everything else on planet Earth) are subjected to an invisible force that pulls things in the direction of the center of the planet — the force of gravity, and that accidents happen. However, an attribution of ‘purpose’ — a design connecting the cause to the effect — would be a mistake, because the ‘tea-cup incident’ is unintentional, and (the important take-away point:) where there is no intent, there is no purpose.

In other words, all events in reality have a ‘meaning’ (because everything that happens is an effect of an earlier cause), but not necessarily a purpose. Purpose is in the design of causal relations, and not everything that happens happens by design.

It is noteworthy that, counter-intuitively, a design does not necessitate a designer. Evolution offers ample evidence (largely considered indisputable) of a design emerging without a designer.

According to the theory of Evolution, design can emerge in response to pressures. As such, it can be considered an example of ‘an intent’ (to protect life) that exists without a consciousness. Therein lies the source of the superfluous tension between some religious views and the theory of Evolution. The position that God is the designer of everything is threatened by the idea that a design can emerge sans a designer. (It is a self-imposed threat because the theory of Evolution is not inherently in conflict with the idea of a supreme designer; Darwin himself did not consider his theory of Evolution inherently incompatible with the idea of a supreme designer, noting that the question of a ‘first cause’ remained open to him. Evolution Theory merely points to the fact that not every design must be produced by a designer; rather, some designs have a designer, and some designs originate in necessity.)

The incompleteness of ‘Meaning’

Secular reality precludes a ‘primary cause’ and a ‘final effect’. That which is considered to be a ’cause’ has its own, earlier, causes. That which is considered to be an ‘effect’ is a cause for subsequent effects.

The regression of causes and progression of effects are infinite. As a consequence, it is simply and non-negotiably impossible to fully appreciate the ‘meaning’ of anything. It may be justifiable to consider the ‘meaning’ of some ‘things’ as if it were complete, i.e., to approximate a full meaning — “for practical purposes”. Still, ignoring the inherent approximation therein is never justifiable.

Because our understanding of the ‘meaning’ of reality is never complete, nothing is ever above doubt — other than the room for doubt. This is at the foundations of the scientific and the mindful approach to reality.

And lastly, on this issue, by extension — fanaticism, a conviction held above any doubt, is always contradictory to scientific thinking and to mindfulness, with a single exception — the fanatical rejection of fanaticism.

Embracing doubt is part of maintaining mindfulness. Doubt, however, can be psychologically burdensome. It is unsettling and contributes to anxiety. Abandoning doubt is understandably tempting — doubtlessness is reassuring and breeds confidence. Indeed, doubtless convictions (in the meaning of any aspect of reality) are often fueled by wishing to feel confident and to deflect feeling anxious — an illustration of the importance we give our feelings.

Subjectively, feelings are above doubt. When you feel hungry, doubtlessly, you are hungry; when you feel hurt (physically or emotionally), doubtlessly, you are hurt. The same applies to positive feelings: When you feel energized, you are energized; when you feel relaxed, you are relaxed, and so on. However, the lack of doubt associated with feelings should not be confused with a lack of room for doubt about the ‘meaning’ that they convey: The ‘meaning’ of feeling hungry may be the need to acquire and consume food, but this meaning is not above doubt. Feeling hungry may actually mean that one needs to cultivate more tolerance of the hunger sensation, particularly if they need to lose weight in order to reduce the risk of the medical complications associated with obesity.

Feeling hurt or in danger of being hurt may mean one is facing a threat potentially requiring an immediate response. But, again, this is not above doubt. It may mean that one is overly sensitive, which, in turn, may mean that one needs to work on reducing their hypersensitivity. (This also applies to positive sensations and emotions: Feeling well does not necessarily mean that one is well; this is illustrated, at times dramatically and even tragically, by patients suffering from the psychiatric condition called mania). The point is that feelings are not a reliable source of understanding the ‘meaning’ of the experiences that elicit them. 

“A mind is like a parachute. It doesn’t work if it is not open” (a quote debatedly attributed to the late great musician Frank Zappa) captures an important point. The term ‘open mind’ refers to a mental state in which one is comfortable with the incompleteness of knowledge — with doubt and with change.

Additionally, an ’open mind’ co-exists with a willingness to monitor one’s thoughts for evidence of doubtless convictions and the willingness to reassess, and let go of, these convictions when they are discovered. ‘Letting go’ implies a willingness to replace a held view with either another (better) view, or — with nothing, i.e., a willingness to replace ‘knowing’ with ‘not knowing’. 

Because ‘meaning’ can never be fully or completely appreciated, and because different ‘meanings’ can be equally valid, a ‘closed mind’ — a mind that is threatened by doubt and by change — is always a liability.

An honest examination of one’s convictions (especially when they are above doubt) is not easy. The willingness to embrace doubt, when it is comfortably absent, and, subsequently, to promote change can be outright difficult. Invariably, however, doing so is well worth the effort: It is at the core of mindfulness.

Meaning and Psychotherapy

One’s past, in particular, the ‘formative years,’ can be safely considered as (at least a part of) the ‘cause’ in one’s life. The ‘effect’ is (at least some) of the circumstances of their adult, or present, life. Hence, uncovering the causal connections therein promises to uncover (at least some of) the ‘meaning’ in that individual life.

This is at the roots of the psychoanalytic (and more broadly, the psychodynamic) voracious interest in patients’ life history (particularly, early life history): Exposing cause-and-effect connections between elements of the patients’ past and their subsequent psychological issues amounts to the discovery of the ‘meaning’ therein. The discovery of the correct meaning holds much promise; it is presumably (at least a part of) the source of the treatment’s therapeutic, or healing, potential. Additionally, it promises more effective choice-making — as discussed above, understanding the correct meaning of something enables one to be effective in dealing with it.

Even if these promises can be fulfilled, it should be noted that the psychodynamic treatment carries a number of risks (as is the case with every form of treatment).

Firstly, there’s the risk that the treatment provider misinterprets the cause-and-effect connections in the patient’s narrative, leading the patient to attribute false meanings to their life experience. Secondly, the emphasis on identifying the causes for patients’ present struggles in their past can encourage the rejection of personal accountability in favor of blaming others who may be considered as ‘the cause’ (e.g., parents and other key figures in one’s earlier life), thus replacing personal agency and ownership of one’s journey with a sense of victimization. 

In comparison, Buddhist psychology emphasizes personal responsibility as a backdrop to the ‘meaning’ of one’s life. The Law of Karma is the law of cause-and-effect, applicable to cosmic events as well as to individuals’ lives.

(Note that ‘karma’, certainly as it is used in this work, does not hinge on the questionable concept of previous life experiences; the Law of Karma is perfectly applicable in reference to one’s present life. As mentioned above, conceptually, the ‘cause’ can be carried backward in time indefinitely, which opens a door to the idea of causes taking place in previous lives; but it certainly doesn’t have to be extended beyond one’s single life span.)

According to the Law of Karma, the meaning of volitional human behavior is in the causal relationship between the intent — which is the ’cause’ preceding the behavior, and the ‘effect’ — the impact of the behavior. The meaning is in this causality chain: A negative intent yields negative choices which ultimately result in increased suffering — bad karma. A positive intent yields positive choices, which ultimately support the pursuit of happiness — good karma.

Worthwhile psychotherapy is a meaningful experience. ‘Meaning’ in therapy is achieved through learning, creating, and/or loving (more on this in the following {much more}). Given the limitations inherent to being human and to most psychotherapeutic environments, the primary path by which therapy gains and affords meaning is via the learning process.

Indeed, the leading modern modalities of psychotherapy (e.g., CBT, DBT) focus on the cognitive process, i.e., on the patient’s acquisition of applicable knowledge and insights.

Contrary to popular belief (and the practice style of unskilled therapists), placing an emphasis on the patient’s feelings (especially as an outcome of the therapy) is misguided and misleading.

The primary goal of psychotherapy is to promote an enduring, positive transformation in the patient’s mental process. A patient who “feels better” in response to the treatment, but has not learned anything worth knowing, has been poorly served. “Feeling better” — desired as it unquestionably is — is inherently transient and therefore not meaningful (more on this below).

Psychotherapy can also be meaningful via the creative process. Art therapy (which, in my opinion, is a greatly underutilized form of therapy) explicitly targets the creative process and uses it as its central therapeutic tool. In a less focused way, all therapy modalities can be considered creative — to the extent that the therapist and patient collaborate in the creation of an integrated mental picture from the fragments of information that comprise the patient’s experience. The emphasis on collaboration is deliberate: the therapy process can be enriching and transformative when it unfolds as a collaboration between equals, producing a picture of an integrated psychological ‘whole’ with greater meaning and, therefore, greater value than the sum of its parts.

Lastly, healing therapeutic relationships are loving. Effective psychotherapy relies on intimacy, which, in turn, requires tolerance of (and deep respect for) the closeness between the patient and the therapist. This, of itself, can be a “corrective experience”, particularly to individuals who have never experienced healthy intimate relationships.

The process of therapy is founded on a level of trust that makes lowering defenses, and thus, exposing the authentic ‘self’, possible. This principle must apply to both the patient and the therapist (otherwise nixes their equality). Granted, the burden of intimacy is not distributed equally, as the emphasis in this regard is on the patient. Nonetheless, therapists who lack tolerance of genuine closeness and are therefore overly defended and inauthentic are likely to undermine the efficacy of the treatment they aspire to provide.

The loving aspect of psychotherapy is also distributed unequally, as it is a utilitarian professional relationship: The attention of the treatment provider must be unwaveringly focused on the needs and experiences of the patient. This amounts to a professional level of “enthusiasm for selflessness” that the therapist must sustain during the therapy sessions. The patient, of course, does not have anything nearing a similar obligation toward their therapist; but, it seems automatic and natural to respond in kind (even if to a much lesser degree of intensity) to the therapist’s sincere, albeit professional, enthusiasm for selflessness.

The intimate, loving nature of psychotherapy can be difficult for inexperienced therapists to manage and may be confusing to some patients. Therefore, as a rule, it is prudent to avoid any other type of relationship between the patient and the therapist, particularly during the therapy (e.g., a friendship or a business relationship).

Most dangerously, the loving essence of the therapeutic relationship can create a potential for abuse of the patient’s trust by a corrupt practitioner, which, most commonly, is enacted sexually. Such abuse can cause serious damage to the patient’s future ability to form trusting, intimate relationships. It is therefore beyond morally repugnant; it is a criminal offense.

Meaning in Life

The term ‘meaning in life’ refers to a specific case of ‘meaning’, associated with some, but not all, human experiences. It is a unique type of ‘meaning’ in that its discovery is, of itself, profoundly psychologically rewarding. In other words, experiences that contribute to the sensation of a ‘meaning in life’ (e.g., experiencing “meaningful experiences”) register as worthwhile or valuable independent of their other features. Conversely, experiences that fail to contribute to the sensation of ‘meaning in life’ (i.e., “meaningless experiences”) tend to register as devoid of value or even as a ‘waste of time’.

The ‘meaning’ of a given experience may register consciously or subconsciously; either way, experiences that contribute to the ‘meaning in life’ are profoundly rewarding. The magnitude of the reward is reflected in the considerable importance that members of our species (who are fortunate enough not to be consumed by survival demands) attribute to living a meaningful life. The human aspiration to experience at least some of life’s experiences as contributing to the discovery of ‘meaning in life’ is a powerful motivation that appears stable across time and cultures. The pursuit of ‘meaning in life’ thus parallels the pursuit of happiness; either pursuit may be the ‘next most important thing’ once survival needs are met.

Meaning and Motivation

The great late Dr. Viktor Frankl proposed that “The striving to find a meaning in one’s life is the primary motivational force in man.” In that, he implies that the discovery of ‘meaning’ in life is, of itself, a just reward for the ongoing effort that life requires, and an acceptable tradeoff for its unavoidable hardship and suffering. Dr. Frankl thus places the importance of discovering ‘meaning in life’ on par with the effective pursuit of happiness, which is broadly regarded as a primary motivation for living.

The link between ‘meaning in life’ and the motivation for it is confirmed by clinical experience — specifically, by the frequency with which patients who endorse a loss of ‘meaning’ in life also display a loss of motivation for it (at the extreme, this is manifested with consideration of suicide, also shared by patients who become convinced that their pursuit of happiness has failed irrevocably).

‘Motivation’ — the justification for the investment of the resources required to implement some action — is a precondition for any volitional action. The idea of ‘motivation’ is inseparable from the idea of causality: Some ‘need’ is the ‘cause’; some action is required to meet the ‘need’. Implementing the action requires an investment of some effort, which, in turn, requires motivation. The action yields an ‘effect’ (which may be more or less desired). The causal connection between the conditions before and after the ‘action’ gives a ’meaning’ to the effort it requires. 

Saying that ‘meaning’ is a reward is saying that ‘meaningful experiences’ are rewarding experiences. To be ‘meaningful’ and rewarding, an experience must “make a difference” (i.e., it must “matter”), which is to say that it must be positively and significantly transformative. Conversely, meaningless, or “trivial”, experiences don’t “make a difference” (they lack matterness). For an experience to be considered ‘transformative,’ there must be a noticeable change in the state of something before and after the experience occurs. For an experience to be considered ‘significant’, the associated change must be noticeable and stable over time. The more enduring in time a change is, the more likely it is to register as significant (conversely, experiences in which the difference between the ‘before’ and the ‘after’ states is unnoticeable and/or fleeting are trivial — insignificant and meaningless). 

Note that significantly transformative experiences can have a positive ‘meaning’ and be rewarding, or a negative ‘meaning’ and be costly. Consider financial investing to illustrate this: A good investment is an investment that, upon “maturing,” leaves the investor in a noticeably better financial state than prior to making the investment; i.e., good investments result in significant gains (obviously, bad investments result in significant losses). An investment would also be considered bad if, upon “maturing,” the investor’s state is neither better nor worse: An investment that yields neither a significant profit nor a significant loss is essentially meaningless and, as such, it is not a good investment. Indeed, experiences that are neither rewarding or costly are not transformative, i.e., they are meaningless. 

Feelings (i.e., both emotions and sensations), either positive (i.e., pleasures) or negative (i.e., pains), are normally transient — like clouds in the sky, to use a Buddhist analogy. (Persistent, unchanging feelings usually manifest an underlying pathology such as major depression, anxiety disorders, mania, or chronic pain disorders.) Because of the transient nature of feelings, experiences that result in nothing but sensory/emotional changes, even if intense, are not transformative.

In other words, because they are inherently fleeting, mere pleasures are insufficient as a source of motivation for life. Painful experiences are similar: mere pain avoidance is insufficient as a motivation in human life.

Discovering a ‘Meaning In Life’

Let’s take another look at the financial investing analogy: The quality of a financial investment can only be assessed when it “matures.” Only then can the investor tell if the investment was good or bad. This raises the following question: When can the investment in life be said to “mature”? When can the quality of one’s investment in life be assessed?

The answer may be elusive and debatable; it is, however, incontrovertible that, subjectively, one’s investment in life must “mature” no later than the last day of one’s life (perhaps earlier, but certainly no later).

Indeed, we instinctively regard the ‘end of life’ as a time for reflection and assessment of the quality of the investment in it. Consistently, much of the psychological research geared to explore questions related to ‘meaning in life’ is hospice-based.

Studies in this area rely on interviewing hospice patients to ascertain what, if anything, remains subjectively valuable, and thus meaningful, at the very end of life. These studies provide several insights that appear consistent over time and across cultures.

Not surprisingly, material things — money and stuff money can buy, lose their value at the end of life. Apparently, you really can’t take it with you. Similarly, (memories of) pleasurable experiences don’t seem to count for much at the time the investment reaches its maturation point. 

Experiences that retain value and meaning at the end of life fall into three categories: learning, i.e., knowledge gained throughout life; legacy, i.e., what one has created during their life and is about to leave behind; and the loving connectedness experienced during one’s life journey.

Learning, at least in this context, implies an acquired insight into the Truth (whether or not that which constitutes “the Truth” is merely subjective is beside the present point and irrelevant to it). Studies suggest that the subjective sense of possessing worthwhile knowledge, i.e., the belief that in the course of one’s life one has gained some access, or at least, came closer to the Truth, is a source of value and meaning. The specific nature of said Truth doesn’t seem to matter: It can be scientific, religious, or otherwise experiential, shared by many, or personal. It is the confidence in the validity of what one has learned during their lifetime that appears to be the source of the value. Conversely, lack of such confidence — the doubt of having learned anything worth knowing — seems to have a negative value, a cost, that apparently can add to the hardship of the dying process.

In other words, the subjective sense that one is just as ignorant at the end of their life as they were on arrival renders one’s lifelong investment in the process as a lousy investment.  

Legacy — the impact one has created that persists after their passing — is another source of meaning at the end of life. One’s legacy is the culmination of one’s lifelong creative endeavor. That which has been created may be anything — from wealth to know-how. As long as one is confident of the positive value of their legacy, i.e., that their lifelong investment resulted in an enduring improvement in the state of something (in other words, the confidence that they are leaving the campsite in better shape than it was when they arrived), it is likely to contribute to their sense of having lived a meaningful life. A legacy of harm and destruction, in comparison, is unlikely to register as valuable, and therefore it is unlikely to contribute to the discovery of ‘meaning in life.’ For example, discovering an effective treatment for an illness is likely to be a source of meaning, regardless of the percentage of patients who benefit from it; the discovery of a lethal poison is unlikely to offer a similar meaning, even if it is 100% effective. 

The third source of value and meaning in life that becomes undeniably apparent at its end is one’s history of loving connectedness. The active ingredient here is in pattern: The confidence in the genuine nature of the loving connection(s). The physical presence of the loved one(s) does not appear to be required in order for the loving connection to impart a value (although I’m sure it helps). Conversely, insecurity and doubts about the nature of one’s loving connections, or worse, the absence of such, appear to have an opposite effect, ultimately adding to the hardship of life’s ending.

Warren Buffett (one of the world’s wealthiest people, which suggests, but in no way proves, that he knows something about something) has said the following in his mid 70’s: “Basically, when you get to my age, you’ll really measure your success in life by how many of the people you want to have love you actually do love you. If you get to my age in life and nobody thinks well of you, I don’t care how big your bank account is — your life is a disaster. That’s the ultimate test of how you have lived your life.”

In summary — when the “investment in life” reaches its last possible “maturation” point, its reward — the conviction that one has lived a meaningful life, is acquired through learning (i.e., one’s gained knowledge), creating (i.e., one’s legacy), and loving (i.e., the nature of one’s connectedness to others).

The triad at the foundation of the pursuit of ‘meaning in life’ — learning, creating, and loving — parallels the triad at the foundation of the pursuit of happiness — Inner Peace, Passion, and Compassion — a reminder that the two pursuits are similar, if not identical.

Inner peace is closely related to the acquisition of knowledge (i.e., learning) — the abolishment of ignorance is liberating and thus, supportive of peace. Legacy — the product of one’s creativity in life — is closely related to passion (which can be considered a fuel for creativity). And, compassion is closely related to love (as discussed below, the term ‘compassionate loving’ may be preferable to the word ‘love’ as it captures the targeted notion more accurately; however, it is a bit more cumbersome to use, and I am an American, so…). 

We normally engage in the learning, creating, and loving processes instinctively — driven by defining human traits: Learning is driven by curiosity and a desire to understand the world in which we exist. Creativity is driven by the allure of beauty and an affinity for integration (of parts into a whole). Loving connectedness is driven by the appeal of closeness (intimacy is physiologically necessary for normal development and appears to play a role in sustained well-being) and the reward of selflessness.

These traits appear to be innate, “hard-wired” into the human brain, as their presence can be demonstrated shortly after birth (with the exception of the reward of selflessness, or altruism, which has been demonstrated in children before age two (Tomasello, 2009)). They are defining traits because they are universal, meaning they are shared (to varying degrees) by all humans.

Innate and defining traits, however, can be repressed and even extinguished by persistent antagonistic pressures. Regrettably, finding learning (for learning’s sake), creating (for the sake of creativity), and loving (for the sake of loving kindness) appealing is all too often treated as childish or naive, somehow incompatible with the mindset required of an adult in modern society. Erosion of the value of learning, creating, and loving undermines the potential for discovering a ‘meaning in life’; at the extreme, it can result in a suffocatingly meaningless existence (the threat of which triggers an “existential angst”, a form of mental pain typically associated with modernity). Hence, it is crucial to maintain awareness of the status of these three processes at all times. Deliberately cultivating and incorporating them into one’s life greatly enhances the likelihood of finding meaning in it.

Let’s take a closer look at these processes:

Learning

‘Learning’ meets the defining criteria of a significantly transformative, positive experience: It is significant because it imparts an enduring change in the sense that it is impossible to choose to “unlearn” that which has been learned (it is possible to passively forget that which has been learned, but it is not possible to actively erase or “unlearn” it).

The transformation associated with ‘learning’ is positive because the ‘self’ is improved or enriched by becoming more knowing — i.e., less ignorant. Of course, ‘learning’ is positive, or enriching, only as long as that which has been learned is worth knowing — i.e., as long as it is of the Truth.

Our brains seem to be hardwired for learning. Curiosity is present at (or shortly after) birth and an appetite for learning is a central force in the first few years of life (at a minimum).

Regrettably, the typical modern educational systems tend to make ‘learning’ a comparative/competitive process; charging the process of learning with a potential for failure and shame renders it potentially painful. As a result, the natural curiosity and appetite for learning can be repressed and even extinguished, ultimately undermining the natural predisposition for the discovery of ‘meaning in life.’

According to the Buddhist worldview, ‘learning’ has a unique and extremely important role in the pursuit of happiness. It is particularly relevant to dealing with suffering: ideally, one aspires not only to survive the encounter with suffering, but to improve from it. This improvement happens through learning — the acquisition of knowledge about the Truth from the suffering experience. ‘Suffering right’ then is encountering suffering in a way that reveals its cause(s). Exposing the causality of suffering is synonymous with discovering its meaning, which, in turn, is the process of learning.

The philosopher Nassim Taleb offers a related idea (Taleb, 2012), making a distinction between ‘endurance’ and ‘resilience’: According to Dr. Taleb, merely surviving suffering is a manifestation of endurance. Surviving suffering and, in some way, becoming better for it is an expression of resilience, or, to use his term, ‘anti-fragility’.

To ‘suffer right’ one must sustain a state of mind that is conducive to learning — i.e., to maintain curiosity and interest in the face of suffering, which is not easy. Beyond the obvious, it isn’t easy because the self-centering function of pain (the precursor to suffering) is contrary to curiosity and interest: Pain is automatically, instantaneously, and firmly judged by the brain as a negative phenomenon; the finality of this judgment renders ‘pain’ subjectively uninteresting. The reflexive response to pain is to make it stop, not to explore it.

Pain is designed to “hijack” attention and focus it on the part of the ‘self’ from which the pain originates, for the purpose of addressing and correcting the cause of the pain as quickly as possible. Curiosity and interest (i.e., the fundamental elements of a state of mind conducive to learning) are designed to direct attention in the opposite direction — away from the self and its needs, onto the Truth. As such, curiosity and interest are irrelevant to, if not conflicted with, the ‘self’ preserving function of pain.

Therein lies the importance of the practice of ‘replacing judgment with interest’ (discussed elsewhere in this work). Cultivating the ability to replace the reflexive negative judgment of pain with interest requires considerable practice. It is worth the effort because the ability to replace judgment with interest enables one to face suffering in a state of mind conducive to learning from it. That is, it enables ‘suffering right’ and promotes ‘anti-fragility’.

In his book Man’s Search for Meaning, Dr. Viktor Frankl, based on his experience as a prisoner in the Nazi concentration camps, suggests that a person can deal effectively with even extreme suffering if he/she discovers a meaning in it: “In some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning”.

Dr. Frankl’s hard-earned conclusion is consistent with Buddhist teachings: Learning from one’s suffering — discovering its meaning, can transform it, even if only to a limited extent, into an opportunity to deepen one’s understanding of the true nature of Reality. When this happens, the suffering “ceases to be suffering” and becomes a source of meaning and a potential for positive change. (This is not to say that suffering becomes somehow pleasant or desired – living beings wish to avoid suffering. Given that suffering is unavoidable, as per the first Noble Truth, it will be encountered. Once encountered, it can be all there is to the experience — just suffering, or, when one shows up to the encounter in the right mind, it can have the reward of the acquisition of knowledge; i.e., suffering right enables learning from it).

It goes without saying (and yet, here I am, saying it!) that ‘learning’ doesn’t have to involve suffering. One can learn from pleasant experiences, from teachers, role models, books, and through meditation. Regardless of the method, as long as it is of the Truth, learning is liberating.

In the Buddhist worldview, ignorance (avidyā) is the root cause of suffering (some Buddhist writers consider ignorance synonymous with suffering). From this perspective, reducing ignorance is equivalent to reducing suffering. In other words, ‘learning’ (shorthand for ‘the reduction of ignorance’) is a direct way to reduce suffering. Moreover, learning all that there is to know, i.e., the abolishment of all ignorance, results in the cessation of all suffering. According to Buddhist thinking, having learned all there is to know amounts to the achievement of full enlightenment, which is the achievement of ‘Buddhahood’, and the fulfillment of the purpose of life.

Inarguably, ‘full enlightenment’ is a very tall order (if not an unattainable abstraction). Nonetheless, it is reasonable and worthwhile to aspire to move in the direction of full enlightenment, even if there is no ‘there’ there to literally arrive at. Any movement away from ignorance, any acquisition of knowledge of the true nature of Reality — any worthwhile learning, is valuable. Movement in that right direction, toward enlightenment and away from ignorance, is a source of ‘meaning in life’, a central aspiration of the practice of mindfulness, which is well within the reach of anyone who chooses to practice it.

Creating

“Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.” — Kurt Vonnegut

“All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once they grow up.” — Pablo Picasso

The laws of conservation that govern the universe prohibit the creation of new matter (as well as new energy and other physical properties). Since no new matter can be created, ‘creativity’ refers to a process that increases the level of organization of a given system. ‘Creativity’ then amounts to the deliberate investment of energy for the purpose of increasing the level of order (or, a reduced level of disorder) of a system — moving it away from chaos and fragmentation toward order and integration. Elevating the organizational level of a system adds value to it. It is the ingredient that makes the whole become greater than the sum of its parts.

Developmental psychology studies demonstrate a preference for order and integration very early on in infancy (Gopnik et al., 1999), implying that this preference is an innate human trait. These studies suggest that the human brain is inherently attracted to organization and assimilation and repelled by chaos and fragmentation. 

Organization is the expression of an underlying design. The connection between ‘design’ and ‘organization’ is causal: the design is the ‘cause,’ and the resulting elevated level of organization is the ‘effect.’ This causality is at the core of the sense of ‘meaning’ associated with ‘creativity.’

The creative process contributes to the discovery of ‘meaning in life’ because it is positively and significantly transformative: It is positive because its ‘effect’ is, by definition, enriching — the elevated level of organization adds to the value of the system in which it takes place.

The benefit the ‘self’ derives from the creative process is secondary to the betterment of the system in which it exists. Consequently, the creative process is beneficial (and meaningful) to the creative person (e.g., a composer) as well as to others who share the system (e.g., the listeners) that is improved by the process.

It is significant because the impact of the creative process is enduring: Just as it is impossible to choose to “unlearn”, it is impossible to choose to reverse the impact of creativity. It is obviously possible to destroy, but, in terms of the impact of the creative process, it is not possible to “uncreate.”

The elevated level of organization that results from the creative process is often recognized as an added aesthetic value, i.e. — as an added beauty. Creativity, however, does not necessarily manifest with added beauty. It can manifest in other ways, for example, functionally, as in creative solutions that lead to an increased efficiency of some device or process (which may or may not be perceived as having an aesthetic value).

Art is an expression of human creativity that, by design, imparts no functional advantage or practical utility. Moreover, artistic expressions are not necessarily beautiful or possessing an aesthetic value. The elevated level of organization created by artists is valued in itself, detached from utilitarian and aesthetic considerations. Ultimately, the extent to which the product of one’s creative process is deemed to be an artistic expression (subjective as that determination is) hinges on the intent attributed to the producer. This attribution of intent is automatic and subconscious (and, of course, varies in accuracy).

An artistic expression, then, can be highly valued without necessarily being beautiful. The appreciation of beauty is subjective — it is in the eye (actually, the brain) of the beholder. The subjectivity of what constitutes ‘beauty’ stems from the fact that different brains differ in their appreciation of a given system’s level of organization, much like the subjectivity of what constitutes ‘art’ stems from the fact that different brains differ in their appreciation of the creator’s intent. 

[Sidebar: Intent is discussed in detail in a dedicated chapter. I’ll briefly review the key points of this discussion: The ‘meaning’ of all volitional behavior is in the intent that precedes it (the ‘cause’). Intent exists on a continuum that stretches between ‘selfish’ and ‘selfless’. The closer the perceived intent (behind a creative process) is to the ‘selfless’ end of the intent-spectrum, the more likely the created product is to be correctly perceived as a work of ‘art’. At the opposite end of the intent-spectrum — when a ‘selfish’ intent drives a creative process, the resulting product is perceived as ‘obscene’. Pornography and muzak are examples of creative products associated with a ‘selfish’ intent. The product of a creative process fueled by an intent around the midpoint of the spectrum (i.e., a fair intent) is typically perceived as being in the realm of entertainment.]

Both the ‘learning process’ and the ‘creative process’ are about movement in a preferred direction: Just as engaging in ‘learning’ is about moving away from ignorance, toward enlightenment, engaging in ‘creativity’ is about moving away from chaos and fragmentation toward organization and integration. In both cases, the movement is “uphill”. Neither ‘learning’ nor ‘creating’ is easy. Both require a persistent effort — a commitment to investing energy in return for movement in the desired direction.

Human history, from its dawn to the present, offers countless examples of our species’ willingness to invest considerable resources in the creative process, even when the investment has no apparent potential for functional or existential rewards, which is a testament to the link between the creative process and the discovery of ‘meaning in life.’ The attribution of value to organization in-and-of itself (most notably, when it is expressed artistically) is an inherent, defining, and uniquely human trait.

Loving

The word ‘Love’ is used to describe a broad range of phenomena (e.g., romantic love, self love, love of country, love of certain foods, etc.), most of which are irrelevant to the current discussion. The terms “compassionate loving” and “loving kindness” are often employed to convey the presently intended use (the Greek word ‘agape’ and the Pali word ‘metta’ are often referenced as words that capture the meaning of ‘love’ as it is intended in this context; unfortunately this is not particularly useful, as my Greek and Pali are even worse than my English is).

The definition of ‘Love’ as it is used in this discussion is as follows: Love is a human connection based on enthusiasm for selflessness. 

‘Enthusiasm for selflessness’ is synonymous with an interest in being useful to an ‘other’. This enthusiasm exists on a spectrum of intensity or purity. Great enthusiasm for selflessness (that is, great love) manifests with an intense wish to be of service to the beloved. However, 100% uncontaminated enthusiasm for selflessness, i.e. — pure love, is, arguably, unattainable. Even the purest love (e.g., parental love) is contaminated by some self-serving expectations (my good friend and mentor Dr. Johan Verhulst used to say, “Pure love is reserved for the gods”).

At an entry level, even a minimal interest in being useful to an ‘other,’ if sincere, can be considered a (rudimentary) example of a loving connection. Hence, even the smallest acts (e.g., acts as trivial as holding the door open for someone, or giving one’s seat to a stranger on the bus), if motivated by a sincere interest in serving the well being of the ‘other’, can be an expression of love and, as such, potentially contribute, if only minimally, to the discovery of ‘meaning in life.’

The ‘interest in being of service’ is synonymous with ‘interest in being helpful’; therefore, helpful connections are similar to loving connections (‘help’ can thus be considered ‘love-lite’). This is consistent with the fact that much of the appeal of careers in the ‘helping professions’ is in their potential to contribute to the discovery of ‘meaning in life.’ My own experience firmly supports this notion: My patients offer me an opportunity to be helpful, a privilege as it is an inexhaustible source of meaning in my life (beyond the much-appreciated financial reward).

Loving connectedness entails intimacy. Intimacy is the degree of closeness allowed by the participants in a relationship. The level of intimacy in a relationship is inversely related to the participants’ need to defend the ‘self’ — the greater the need for ‘self’ defense, the lesser the intimacy in the relationship.

Intimacy has a similar role in loving and in helpful connections. Helpful relationships are intimate in the sense that they require “exposure-tolerance” of both the provider and the recipient of the help: Asking for help (obviously) exposes one as having needs they are unable to fulfill; offering help (less obviously, perhaps) potentially exposes one’s limitations — in case that the help falls short of meeting the need.

Allowing intimacy requires a willingness to lower the ‘self’s defenses. Lowering one’s defenses renders the ‘self’ vulnerable, which can be uncomfortable, unnerving, and thus, challenging. Intolerance of intimacy (a fairly common occurrence) stems from an exaggerated need for self-defense and a rigid reliance on maintaining a “safe distance” as a self-protective measure. Discomfort with intimacy can negate the formation of loving connectedness. The tension surrounding intimacy can be reduced by containing the attention given to the ‘self,’ i.e., limiting the attention given to the needs of the ‘self’ is an expression of selflessness.

The causal sequence behind the ‘meaning’ that is inherent to the loving connection begins with awareness of the ‘other’s well-being, which is the source of the ‘cause’. This attention eventually triggers some action(s) designed to create the ‘effect’ — an improvement in the ‘other’s condition. The movement from the ‘cause’ to the ‘effect’ inevitably requires an effort. The enthusiasm with which this effort is invested confirms and reflects the loving nature of the connection.

Loving is a source of ‘meaning in life’ because it elicits a positive and enduring transformation (in line with the discussion above). In a loving connection, the positive transformation is in the ‘other’ — namely, in the betterment of the ‘other’s condition; the ‘self’ serves as the change-promoting instrument (rather than the primary transformed object). The positivity of the experience is enhanced further by the (arguably, peculiar) reward of altruism, i.e., of selfless acts.

The transformation associated with loving is enduring. The endurance of the transformation is independent of the course of the relationships in which it forms. In other words, the impact of the loving connection is long-lasting, often life-long, regardless of the duration of the loving relationship itself. In line with the pattern presented above — it is impossible to choose to “unlove”. The fact that it is impossible to choose to stop loving can be a source of much pain, which, when it happens, is, obviously, in stark contrast with one’s aspirations. Nonetheless — as a result of the robust connection between loving and ‘meaning in life’, it is unquestionably “better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. 

The three processes that support the discovery of ‘meaning in life’ share several covert similarities that warrant a review (even at the cost of some repetition):

• They are positively transformative: ‘Learning’ changes the ‘self’ directly. ‘Creating’ changes the ‘self’s surroundings and secondarily changes the ‘self’. ‘Loving’ primarily changes an ‘other’ which secondarily changes the ‘self’.
• Primary or secondary, the transformations that result from these processes are enriching of the ‘self’, ultimately, contributing to one’s meaning in life, which is rewarding even in the face of considerable hardship. 
• They are outside the realm of free choice: The transformative effects of ‘learning’, ‘creating’, and ‘loving’ are enduring regardless of preference. One cannot choose to “unlearn”, “uncreate” (i.e., to erase the impact of creativity), or “unlove”.

Moreover, it is also impossible to choose to learn, create, or love. Our freedom of choice does not extend that far — it is not in play when it comes to the deep transformations of learning, creating, and loving — these emerge from the engagement, not from a choice to have them. Freedom of choice applies only to how we show up to the opportunities to learn, create, and love when they present. The spectrum of our options ranges from the mindful — genuinely and fully “showing up”, to the mindless — “showing up” physically, in body only, or “phoning it in”.
Freedom of choice applies to the investment one makes in the quality of their state of mind (i.e., the investment in mindfulness), which, in turn, impacts the efficacy of their mental functioning in general and the learning, creating, and loving processes specifically.

• The state of mind that is most conducive to learning, creating, and loving is a high-energy state. This energy manifests as wakefulness and attentiveness. In contrast, intoxicated states (regardless of the nature of the intoxicant, or its source, internal or external) are incompatible with engaging in these processes. Consequently, intoxicated states are incompatible with discovering a ‘meaning in life’, and therefore, time spent intoxicated is time wasted (ironically, the pain caused by the failure to discover a ‘meaning in life’ often leads to intoxications, which then make finding it much less likely).
• They are dyadic, rooted in a reciprocally rewarding connectedness: The learning process connects a student with a teacher. ‘Creating’ connects the producer and the consumer (of the creative product); the creative endeavor is completed by its reception (e.g., the painter’s work is completed when the viewer views it, the writer’s work is completed by its reader, hence, I thank you for reading this.)
  “Knowledge exists only when it is given, like love.”                                                          David Mitchell  (The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet)
  
  The biblical story of creation is, arguably, suggestive of this point, in the sense that God’s creation of the world was incomplete until man was created — a recipient to appreciate and utilize (and take care of) the rest of creation. The creation of man can also be considered as supportive of the reciprocal essence of the loving connection: ‘Loving’ is fulfilled by being loved.
• They require a capacity for intimacy: Learning, creating, and loving depend on tolerance of one’s vulnerability and a willingness to lower one’s ‘self’-defenses. Conversely, a heightened awareness of one’s fragility, difficulty trusting, and an exaggerated investment in defending the ‘self’ reduce the capacity for intimacy and ultimately threaten the potential for discovering a ‘meaning in life’.
  
  The capacity for intimacy is sometimes referred to as “openness” — of heart and of mind. Openness is a prerequisite for interpersonal closeness and is required on both sides of the relationship. Learning depends on the openness of both the teacher and the student. Creating depends on the openness of both the creator and the consumer. Obviously, loving depends on the openness of the lovingly connected.
  Children normally have an insatiable appetite for learning, intense interest in creativity, and a boundless capacity for loving, unhampered by concerns about the vulnerability of ‘self’ and the need to defend it. The childlike state of mind enables balancing the weight of the search for meaning with the incredible lightness of being.
• They are based on limiting the attention given to the ‘self’: In ‘learning,’ attention is placed away from the ‘self’, on the unknown, in search of the Truth. The creative process places attention outside of the ‘self’, on the level of organization in some system. In ‘loving’ attention is placed on the ‘other’ and their needs.

In the context of finding a meaning in life, the ‘self’ and its needs are distracting, i.e., attention “grabbed” by the ‘self’ comes at the expense of attention required for the discovery of ‘meaning in life’.
This is consistent with the Buddhist notion of the ‘self’ as an illusion. Accordingly, ignorance of the illusory nature of the ‘self’, which justifies investing attention in it, is, at best, a hurdle to the discovery of ‘meaning in life’; at worst, it is a source of a variety of “mental afflictions” and the inevitable suffering they cause.   

• Lastly, the three processes that give meaning to our lives are fueled by the appeal of the Truth. I think that this is the critical feature therein: Learning is a search for a truth. Learning is meaningful only to the extent that what is learned is worth knowing, and anything is worth knowing only to the extent that it is of the Truth (non-truths, i.e., fallacies, illusions, and delusions are worthless and, at best, meaningless).

The creative process reaches for the same Truth. The main difference between the two processes in this regard is in the tools they employ in the pursuit of the Truth: The learning process utilizes language (i.e., some system of symbols, such as words or numbers), which, in turn, employs rules and logic. The creative process is independent of language and free of reasoning and logic. However, both processes seek the same Truth: To use John Keats’ words — “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know”.

The connection between ‘love’ and the Truth is widely recognized and noted in a broad range of human traditions, from Judaism to Rastafarianism. The idea is perhaps expressed most succinctly by Rumi, the Sufi mystic, who said: “Love is nothing other than finding the Truth”.

REFERENCES

Alexander, F., & French, T. M. (1946). Psychoanalytic therapy: Principles and application. Ronald Press.

Barks, C., trans. (1995). The essential Rumi. HarperOne.

Bowlby, J. (1969). Attachment and loss: Vol. 1. Attachment. Basic Books.

Byock, I. (1997). Dying well: Peace and possibilities at the end of life. Riverhead Books.

Chochinov, H. M., Hack, T., Hassard, T., Kristjanson, L. J., McClement, S., & Harlos, M. (2002). Dignity therapy: A novel psychotherapeutic intervention for patients near the end of life. Journal of Clinical Oncology, 20(21), 5520–5525. https://doi.org/10.1200/JCO.2002.02.048

Clark, A. (2013). Whatever next? Predictive brains, situated agents, and the future of cognitive science. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 36(3), 181–204. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0140525X12000477

Frankl, V. E. (1946/2006). Man’s search for meaning. Beacon Press.

Friston, K. (2010). The free-energy principle: A unified brain theory? Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 11(2), 127–138. https://doi.org/10.1038/nrn2787

Gopnik, A., Meltzoff, A. N., & Kuhl, P. K. (1999). The scientist in the crib: What early learning tells us about the mind. William Morrow.

Harkaway, N. (2017). Gnomon. Knopf.

Keats, J. (1978). Ode on a Grecian urn. In J. Stillinger (Ed.), The poems of John Keats. Belknap/Harvard University Press. (Original work published 1819)

Mitchell, D. (2010). The thousand autumns of Jacob de Zoet. Random House.

Taleb, N. N. (2012). Antifragile: Things that gain from disorder. Random House.

Tomasello, M. (2009). Why we cooperate. MIT Press.

Vonnegut, K. (2005). A man without a country. Seven Stories Press.

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