How to Find Meaning When Literally Nothing Matters
A long long time ago, when I didn’t have credit card bills, or an inbox full of nagging work emails, and I still lived at home, my father said something to me.
Now I should preface this with saying my dad has always been a cryptic person. An enigmatic November scorpio, (liquid intensity boiling just under the surface of a rough and tumble exterior included). He is a man who has been known to not speak for months, and then erupt with a flurry of compressed thoughts, emotions and wishes. But that’s always just been daddy.
So let’s get back to the story, shall we?
I had to have been between the weird ages of 17-19. I got up to pee (no doubt reluctantly) sometime fairly early in the morning, one of those fuzzy and mystical late/early times where it’s hard to tell if it is indeed morning, or just an obnoxiously stretched out nighttime.
Making my way to the bathroom -- in reality, just across the hall but feeling like a world away with sleep crusted eyes and the ever real dangers of stubbing my toe. Suddenly my father appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, but that could’ve just been residual dream magic for all I know.
During this weird sort of happenstance meeting in the hallway, he just looked at me and said, “I’m gonna tell you something”, a phrase very on brand for my sagacious father. I can’t remember exactly, but I know I must have grimaced at even the hint of a lecture with my bladder even more than full, at whatever the hell it was o’ clock.
I stared at him only half confused, he paused before pointing his finger at me and saying, “What you do today matters.” I looked around wondering what could have possibly brought on this midnight prophecy, and resorted to just responding “okay”. He vanished (probably back to bed with my mom, but who can really know) and I turned on my heel making a beeline for the toilet.
I think about that brief Mr. Magorium-esque moment a lot. Especially now, post undergrad, mid pandemic, and pre-the rest of my life.
I won’t belabor you, Dear Reader, with tired spins on the “unprecedented times” we’re living in. Life right now is weird, it’s fucked. We’re all adults here, let’s just say it.
And we know the problems and never ending heartaches of today are not unique to 2020. But are rather, the result of centuries of a twisted sort of societal ills whack-a-mole, that we can no longer ignore.
Those of us who have been lucky enough to work from home these past months have had a lot of time to think, perhaps-- too much time.
I know that I have personally, on several occasions, thrown my hands into the air and shouted at the void wondering: just what exactly is the point? The point of the events of this year, of the death, the continued injustice, the loneliness, the pain?
I could be speaking for myself here, but it’s been unusually hard to proceed with “business as usual”, when the world is quite literally ending. What? You haven’t seen that terrifying Climate Countdown Clock?
Almost everyday, there is a new reason to be alarmed, discouraged and unsettled by the unrelenting brutalities of this year. And yet, everyday, we open our silly little laptops and complete our silly little work responsibilities. The absurdity of clicking into a zoom meeting, and grasping for appropriate responses to the dreaded “How are you?” while the world burns, is never lost on me.
Surely, there’s a name for our collective delusion?
If you, like me, find yourself wondering amidst all 2020 peril, what’s the point? I would like to give you the gift of my father’s strange midnight hallway advice, “What you do today, matters.” Let that echo around in your mind when you find yourself shuddering at the idea of even being a person today.
I’m thinking now, of the lyrics to a song from Frozen II. Yes, we’re going there. Without giving away too much (even though seriously guys, it’s been nearly a year), at one of the deepest, darkest most un-see-your-way-out-able moments in the movie, during one of my favorite numbers, Do The Next Right Thing, Ana belts:
“I won't look too far ahead
It's too much for me to take
But break it down to this next breath
This next step
This next choice is one that I can make”
So clear, so concise, so profound, bravo Disney. Sometimes, the shadow of life is daunting, the “big picture” is at times, way too big to look at, and all we can really bring ourselves to do, is focus on a corner of the whole. On a breath, on a step, on a choice.
And so, my prescription for the great big overwhelm that is this year, is to take it in parts. Search for pockets of light and joy, in the midst of all the heaviness. Take breaks when you can, and take deep breaths often. Remember that what you do today, matters. Even if it seems like nothing else does.