The Meaning of Meaninglessness

The Book of Ecclesiastes

‘Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do. Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil. Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun—all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labour under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.’ - Ecclesiastes 9: 7-10

How do you solve a problem like Meaninglessness? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you find a word that means Meaninglessness? A flippiti gibbet, a willo’ the wisp, a clown. Probably, by sending it away from the seclusion and serenity of The Abbey walls and into the toilsome bother of frogs-in-your-pocket, Navy whistles, no play clothes, nothing comes from nothing, rain drops on roses, pink lemonade, pine cones, Baraoness Schraeder, drapes, boats, puppet shows, more strudel Herr Detweiler, Friedrich's teeth, squashed tomato, incorrigible, Do Rei Me, your face is all red, bright copper kettles, Frau Schimidt, the poor didn’t want this one, edelweiss, confidence in confidence, the Laendler, Franz, Rolf, Herr Zeller, you may call me Captain, gravestones, Nazi whistles, pistols, hills, and having a marvellous time.

Forgive me, I seem to be in a strange sort of stupor (and perhaps you are not familiar with all the references to Rogers and Hammerstein’s genius musical based on the 1949 memoir of Maria von Trapp - there are more to come). I am feeling a touch vapoury, if you catch my drift - a little wishy washy in the aftermath of returning to work amidst the new world of no Bru (our beloved Teacup Yorkie who died ten days ago). I just want to curl up on the sofa and watch The Sound of Music, but I am in The Reginald Centre in Leeds with The Pope’s funeral on the large TV, and some sort of public event led by The Police in the area I usually sit and write. Everything seems different. It’s all gone weird. And although, The Pope’s funeral and The Police presence are serious business indeed (I am a Catholic Jew and Legal Alien), it all seems rather wispy and pretend in my stuporiphic state of being. My seat is alive with the sound of strangeness.

Interestingly, in Ecclesiastes (my favourite book of The Bible), the Hebrew word, translated as ‘meaningless’, is hevel, which literally means ‘vapour’ or ‘smoke’, but carries the broader sense of fleetingness, impermanence, and futility. It's used thirty-eight times in The Book of Ecclesiastes to argue the meaninglessness of life’s pursuits. It’s all meaningless. It’s all vapour. Wealth, materialism, wisdom, knowledge, pleasure, sensuality, hard work, productivity... it’s all passing smoke. Puff. Gone. It’s the perfect read for a sore-throated, head-full-of-cold, I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly, sort of mind.

A young woman with learning difficulties is shouting out her utter delight about whatever she’s enjoying on YouTube on the public PCs.

A grey-haired Rasta, outside the window from which I write, is offering a few smiles from the bench from which he smokes.

A child is pulling out dozens of books she wants to borrow, while her mother scans and flicks through the pages of the growing pile of colourful reads.

‘You’re shouting sweetheart’, soothes the kind carer.

‘The Pope’s coffin arrives at Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore,’ says Sky News.

The Police voices calmly waft into the soundscape mix.

My seat is alive with the sound of strangeness.

And as I watch, listen, daydream, sniffle, snuffle, write, and stare... a strange sort of magic emerges. A light kind of energy stirs. A peaceful playfulness, and paradoxical productivity, arises, bubbles, and overflows, from the deeper springs of meaning that can be found in the darker wells of meaninglessness. It’s the magic of making, observing, interpreting, analysing, imagining, reflecting, remembering, expressing, contemplating, wondering, enjoying, sharing, receiving, being, and breathing.

The meaning beyond meaning

The meaning below meaning

The meaning behind meaning

In the Bible, The Book of Ecclesiastes is beyond, below, and behind The Book of Proverbs. Quite literally. Physically. It is the wisdom after wisdom. It offers that deeper, darker material, from which to turn our life’s lead into inner gold. Of course, we need both types of wisdom. There is a time for everything! But sometimes, in those murky moments of life’s muddiness, we need the wisdom of Ecclesiastes – not wise proverbs on prudence, productivity, patience, knowledge, modesty, obedience, honesty, diligence, humility, and work. We need something much darker: it’s all meaningless. Nothing matters! Vapour, smoke... puff!

And from that raw, dark matter of nothing matters, we can mould a mightily rich life of meaningful presence. We can make the most of our little plots of mud – and throw ourselves into the lives we live, rather than losing ourselves into the nothingness out there. It’s here. It’s now. This is it! We can enjoy where we are in the time we have, or ruin our lives with the who, what, where, and when we should have been. It doesn’t matter. Let it go.

Perhaps it’s not a choice between meaning and meaninglessness, but rather a choice between real life and no life. Truth or illusion. And if nothing matters, then what are we afraid of! Who are we afraid of!

If nothing matters, we can take some risks

If nothing matters, we can freely fall

If nothing matters, we can have some fun

If nothing matters, we can dare to love

If nothing matters, we can show who we are

If nothing matters, we can forgive everyone

If nothing matters, we can make it up

If nothing matters, we can change our mind

If nothing matters, we can follow our dreams

I nothing matters, nothing matters

So, what is the meaning of life?

[chuckles out loud in The Reginald Centre]

Making meaning from meaninglessness

Turning lead into gold

May as well, right

It’s all meaningless!

Cream-colored ponies

Crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells

and schnitzel with noodles

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings

These are a few of my favourite things

Amen