The meaning of life

Sometimes I wonder about the meaning of life. What is life? Is it being born, living it as best you can and die? Is it something to be totally spent in the service of God? Is it something to be enjoyed? Should it be spent in the service of other human beings? Or is it just something that is and we have to go along with it like everybody else?

You know how there are little drops of dew on the roof of the car in the morning, after a cold night? Have you ever just taken your finger and swiped it through the dew? It makes a line in it. When the sun comes up and the dew melts, you can see traces of the line you made; a faint imprint where your finger brushed away the dew. After some time, that too vanishes. It is replaced by dust or, if you clean your car daily, a shiny imprint free roof.

Our life is like that little finger swipe. The roof is the world; the droplets of dew, the people. Each person has a unique presence, just like tiny drops of dew. When we touch the lives of the people we know, we leave an impression on them. Even if we only meet them once. They remember us, even if it is for a tiny fraction of a second. They talk about us, laugh about us, tell their friends they want to be like us or unlike us, think about us and smile, secretly admire us, love us, hate us, say our name in sleep, think of us when they open their eyes in the morning, or completely forget us after a few moments. But just like the swipe we make with that finger; we make an impression on them and, in turn, on their lives.

Eventually, our impression fades away. If they know us deeply and intimately, it takes a lifetime. If they only happened to glance at us from across the street while buying fruit, it takes only a second. I look at the stars and wonder if these planets exist anymore. Scientists say their lights reach us millions of years later. I wonder, if I put a very powerful telescope to my eyes which could see that far, what I would see. Maybe a civilization at the pinnacle of its life, or a star just being born. Maybe a world destroying itself, or one just waking up.

But what if there is an alien out there on one of the stars I see as just being born? Millions of years later, it has evolved and now has a thriving population. And that alien, being scientifically advanced enough, sees the dinosaurs walking around on our planet. Maybe, someday, someone from a far away galaxy will see me lying on the grass and staring up at the sky; wondering about the meaning of life. And my life, just for a second, will impact his. He may turn around to his friend and tell him about the human he saw today.

I guess what I want to say is, our life does have a meaning. We just have to live it as best we can. Maybe long after we die, we’ll be remembered. Maybe our stories will be told to others. Maybe they’ll smile at the jokes we told or at the way we talked or how we used to tell a story. Maybe we can live long after we die.