In average fashion, I’m trying to find the meaning in my life. Can a mind actually know this? In my case, I believe the answer is No. There is no one meaning when you have a mind where everything shifts, where the mind is fluid and can ever contemplate new possibilities.
Lord knows, I tried to seek out the meaning. My life is a chain of consuming ideas—I consumed them, and they consumed me.
I decided to dash off a quick list, which you’ll see below. I was startled to see myself do it. After more than half a century of being here I find that these ideas are all present within me. Nothing has been lost. These are the markers of my life. In fact, I find that I clearly remember where I was or what was happening in my life when each of these ideas and I had our first encounters.
I have my cherished collection, much like a rich person might collect pieces of art. Perhaps you go through your life, and, towards the end of it, you survey your cherished collection of objects. You take joy from them and feel as though you have accomplished something. These markers have lasting value, and this reassures you.
There are those who keep their collections private. Others see that the value they have amassed can be enriching to more than just themselves. They become patrons who put their wealth into museums and galleries for public enjoyment. I know of my wealth, I just don’t know what kind of collector I am…
And here is the list. The ideas comprising my wealth are in no particular order except that in which they bubbled up from memory as I made my list. I have added emphasis to show ideas that came from outside sources. The others are either my own creation or those for which I am not aware of an external influence. And two of them are very special to me.