There Is No Meaning In This

Every now and then I struggle with meaning. When it happens I say it's my existential angst acting up. When I get like this I have trouble seeing the point of life. Why do we do what we do? What is the meaning behind our daily struggle to survive? Why are we born, marry, have children and die? None of it has any meaning. There is no grand purpose. What is the point?

Faced with this existential crisis there are two choices - live or die. Keep going every day or kill yourself. Suicide has never appealed to me, even in my darkest hour, so I have to keep on keeping on. The question then becomes how to live. There are innumerable answers and I can only answer for myself. For me it starts with the fact that at a very basic level I am a creative person. A striver. I always have ideas about how to improve myself, things I want to learn, or projects I want to do. I am not terribly successful at accomplishing these things, but the push is always there. So my choice comes down to either pursue my multitude of ideas or sit on the couch and watch TV. When the angst is kicking I don't see any point to doing anything but staying in bed, but ultimately I will not be satisfied with that. So I get up. The thing to remember is life and particularly a creative life is not linear. It is a cycle of starts and stops. Sometimes even stops on purpose to recharge. Always moving forward though. Trying to accomplish something. Even if ultimately it doesn't have meaning I won't be satisfied living life any other way.