Twice this question arose in my life recently. The first time was when I somehow came upon Viktor Frankl’s book: Man’s Search for Meaning; the second time was in church. The priest, who cited Frankl’s book, said that we can survive the loss of many things in life, love included, but the one thing we cannot live without is a sense of meaning.

Not too long ago I would have said it was my family that gave my life meaning – watching the children grow and anticipating the years when I hold their children in my arms, but I now recognize that to be a precarious answer to the question. Shouldn’t my meaning relate to a sort of mission I have that no one and nothing can take away from me?

I’ve wondered if it is my passion for writing which gives my life meaning. I love to write and I plan to write a few more books in the coming years. There is one book I’ve had in mind to write since 2002, but it’s still not the right time to write it. For now, I pour all my writing energy into this blog. But what if the LFI porch burned to the ground? Would my meaning disappear with it? What if it’s never the right time to write my 2002 book? Would all that render my life meaningless?

To say that I’ve been more than a little lost lately is an understatement. My whole sense of what gave my life meaning was shattered on August 17th. And I have to rectify this.

So I’m turning to you Dear LFI community member. Consider this my question.

What gives your life meaning? Have you ever lost it? How did you find it again?

photo credit: Richard Gillin