It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
If I can, I'd like to talk a little bit about myself and my attachment to having Meaning in Life.
I think all of us to some extent have desired our lives to have meaning, whether that meaning may be said to be subjective or objective. For there to be purpose to existence, a reason for why things are, or simply significance to what is going on, I think this is very relatable. However, I think it's also a given that some people are more affected by this issue than others, that some people are in fact obsessed with it. Such is myself.
There is an aspect of megalomania here, I'll admit in my case at least. I think when one lacks sufficient emotional support/reserves one quite naturally darts out and grasps at whatever meaning there can be found in life, even if it's only an abstract kind.
Pain necessarily compounds the issue, and in my case, I ended up literally grasping at straws.
As Nietzsche said, “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”
Finding meaning in vanity. That became my chief cardinal sin. This is because I could not pin anything with sufficient meaning to my life, until recently. Now, what gives me great meaning is freedom, mystery, life, ethics and all the great things which together comprise the tapestry of existence. And the totality of this Existence, is what I gain as Meaningful.
But this is still an attachment, it seems.
It is a better attachment. For before I clung to the doctrine of determinism with unreasonable tenacity, maintaining that "all must be determined" in order to be supremely Meaningful, disregarding even my innate dignity. At this time my mind was exceptionally deluded, I'll admit. Back then I wanted every TINY detail of the universe to have perfect, non-accidental, eminently special MEANING.
Now I am more fluid and less concerned with particulars. Reality is NOT ALL LIKE a perfect Crystal, with every atom of existence necessarily being in a perfect position and lending coherence to the ALL in an immaculate way. No. Life may be deeply and interwovenly connected, but it is not all perfect. It has rough edges. And the rough edges may have redeeming value, but they are NOT ALL PERFECT and some are, it is true, meaningless....
But does not chaotic flux as a whole have meaning? I think it does. The Whole has meaning. The Whole has significance. Even if that significance, that meaning, is opaque to us. That is when I rest in Mystery. Mystery itself is now precious to me.
Is all such attachment delusion? Or is some of it legitimate? Is it necessary to demolish all such strongholds of the mind, to be open only to what is in the moment? And in that sense, leave behind even intimate relationships, and count it as dung?
Am I perhaps just playing a shell game with myself, and fooling myself that I have overcome the need for petty meaning while really
only masking it over and claiming that I derive Truth from Mystery now?
Is there room for Ultimate Meaning in Buddhism or is it non-admissible?