A co-worker and I were discussing the generalities of life the other day and came to a disagreement on what life basically is — what it is we’re “here to do.” I argued (well, tried — she wouldn’t have any of it) that at it’s most primitive level, life is about being content with the time you have spent here on this bizarre journey; she felt that there was much, much more to life than a singular word.
One thing she mentioned was the notion of contribution. Unfortunately she couldn’t really explain what she meant — maybe she was and I just couldn’t hear it — but I suggested that contributing would ultimately lead to a sense of doing good, which is another form of happiness. Whether you look at contributing as devoting hours a week to helping homeless or teaching children, or simply paying your bills on time and not fucking other peoples’ stuff up, I fail to see an objective beyond that of being content with one’s self in one form or another.
Perhaps I’m looking at all this through too big a lens, but I often think people look at things through too small of one, focusing on the tiniest of features when they’re missing the object as a whole.