The meaning of life: why do we live?

What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Beyond happiness, success and our personal plans, spirituality raises the question of a deeper purpose to human existence. From the fear of death to the inner search, from the experience of separation to the awareness of Unity, this article explores what it means to live and the reason for our presence on Earth.

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Why are we here, and where is human existence leading us?

What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Beyond happiness, success and our personal plans, spirituality raises the question of a deeper purpose to human existence*. From the fear of death to the inner search, from the experience of separation to the* awareness of Unity*, this article explores what it means to live and the reason for our presence on Earth.*

We all have reasons to live. To start a family, to love, to work, to build something, to experience happiness, to go through difficulties, to fulfil certain plans. All of this matters, of course. But the question is whether these personal reasons are enough, on their own, to explain the meaning of our presence here.

I do not believe they are.

All living beings take part in something that goes beyond them, and human existence has a fundamental purpose that does not depend on our ambitions or on the particular circumstances of our lives. Few people truly know what it is. Most simply try to live as well as they can, to avoid suffering and, if circumstances allow, to be happy.

In cultures traditionally oriented towards spirituality, the idea that existence has a meaning beyond the individual is more present. Indian traditions speak, in particular, of Liberation and of freedom from the cycle of reincarnations. Yet, in popular religious practice, many people do not directly seek this Liberation. They hope instead to accumulate good karma in order to have a better future existence.

This shows how easily we tend to postpone the true meaning of our existence until later. Meanwhile, we are mainly concerned with the past, the future, our relationships, money, what others think of us, what they have done to us or what they should do.

We wonder why we are not recognised for our true worth, why things do not happen as we would like them to, and why certain people are the way they are. If you do not recognise yourself in this description, perhaps you are not one of those people. Or perhaps the way you see yourself sometimes lacks a little clarity. That happens to everyone.

Modern human beings are increasingly alone among others. Old forms of belonging have weakened, collective bonds are less obvious, and each person builds their own boundaries, certainties and protections around themselves in the hope of finding a little security.

Yet fear remains. It simply changes its face. It attaches itself to our material future, illness, ageing, changes in the world and what we may lose. And behind many of these concerns stands the mother of all fears: the fear of death.

We know perfectly well that we are going to die, yet we often live as though this certainty were some kind of mistake that could be postponed for as long as possible.

We watch what we eat, exercise, take care of our appearance, try to preserve our health and slow the effects of time. There is obviously nothing wrong with that.

The problem begins when we hope, by doing these things, to make an anxiety disappear that does not come from the body alone. We can look away, fill our days, avoid bad news, distract ourselves or reassure ourselves. Yet a quiet anxiety sometimes remains hidden somewhere, like the monster a child imagined on top of the wardrobe or under the bed.

So we hesitate to look within, afraid of finding something there that we would rather not see. That is unfortunate, because the remedy lies precisely there. And there is no monster.

We live largely according to what we believe ourselves to be. Each person has, we could say, three identities: the person they think they are, the person others think they are, and the person they really are.

The first two are constantly changing. The image you have of yourself changes with circumstances, age, successes, wounds and the opinions you have adopted. The image others have of you changes even more, since everyone sees you through the lens of their own history.

But there is something within you that does not depend on these perceptions. It is this deeper identity that should gradually emerge into consciousness, because it allows us to look at the world and at our own existence differently. In this sense, there are several ways of seeing.

The first stops at appearances. It mainly notices what distinguishes, opposes and separates.

The second seeks to understand. It interprets behaviour, emotions, intentions and thoughts. It still belongs to the mind, but it already goes beyond immediate appearances.

Then comes another way of seeing, that of consciousness. It does not deny the diversity of beings and things, but behind this diversity it perceives the same fundamental reality. It sees the many without losing sight of Unity. This is the vision that can give existence its right direction.

When the way we see changes, the way we act changes as well. Spirituality is not simply about thinking differently, accumulating knowledge or adopting certain beliefs. It concerns the way we live, now, in the midst of ordinary things.

Lao Tzu spoke of wuwei, “non-action”. Non-action is obviously not inaction. It does not mean sitting still and waiting for life to decide in our place. It means acting without unnecessarily adding the agitation of personal will to the action, in harmony with what is and with the fundamental harmony of life.

A person can know a great deal about spirituality intellectually and still continue to live exactly as before. This is where different ways of relating to truth become apparent.

First, there are those who are not concerned at all with an inner dimension or with any transcendent purpose to their existence. They live, desire, fear, become attached, suffer, experience some happiness and continue on their way. Everyone passes through this stage. It is existence lived primarily through the experience of separation and duality.

Then there are those who begin to sense that another reality exists. They read, learn, reflect, compare doctrines, know the words, the concepts and sometimes the texts. They can know a great deal about truth without actually living it.

This is what I would call untruth within truth: truth is known as an idea, but the way of living remains governed by what is contrary to it.

Finally, there are those for whom the search for truth ceases to be merely one intellectual concern among others and becomes a real orientation of their existence. This is truth within truth. Not because they have become perfect, but because they have stopped treating truth as a mere object of thought. They begin to give it a real place in their lives.

In the Gospel, we read that a tree is known by its fruits. Another parable speaks of a seed that can fully bear fruit only when it falls on prepared soil, cleared of stones and thorns. This image says a great deal about the spiritual life.

Grace is contained within the seed, but it is up to you to prepare the soil, sow, water and weed. Grace does not release you from doing what is yours to do. It gives your efforts their true fruitfulness.

We may aspire to fundamental truth, wish to understand the meaning of existence, speak of spiritual awakening, consciousness, the soul or Liberation. But if we refuse to commit anything of ourselves, these words will remain only words.

It is not enough to know that a path exists. You still have to walk it. The regular practice of the original yoga of The Path is neither a burden nor a punishment. On the contrary, it becomes a profound source of happiness when we understand why we practise it.

This does not mean that everything is easy. Going against certain habits, attachments or impulses sometimes requires real effort. But that effort becomes possible when the motivation is right and practice is accompanied by perseverance.

I have not yet named this fundamental reason for living, common to all human beings and beyond their personal motivations.

This subject would require far more than one article to explore in depth.

Nevertheless, know this: souls are not incarnated without a reason. They are destined to “return home” after having left it, like the prodigal son in the biblical parable who returns to his father after going out into the world.

Existence is the time in which we experience duality. We experience self and other, pleasure and pain, closeness and separation, desire, loss, time and death.

But this experience is not in vain. It prepares consciousness to recognise Unity, not as an idea we are supposed to believe in, but consciously and directly, after having known the experience of separation.

That is why you live. Not merely to succeed in life, to be happy, to acquire possessions, to love, suffer, learn or leave something behind. All of that belongs to the journey.

The deeper reason for the journey is the return. If this question speaks to you and you would like to explore it further, you can ask your questions here: madhyama.marga@gmail.com

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madhyama.marga@gmail.com