Curating Local Meaning: The OASIS Approach to Living

Life may lack inherent meaning, but by curating an appropriate portfolio of engagements, I can look forward to rising each day with anticipation.

Looking forward to getting up in the morning with anticipation, enthusiasm, and vigor is a litmus test for living well

Arun Kumar

Summary: Even if my life may not have an inherent meaning, I can still create local meaning through deliberate engagement and make my ephemeral journey a string of days that I look forward to living.

It is not difficult to argue that the universe — and my life within it — lacks a predetermined meaning. All I need to do is look around and observe the role of randomness: how quickly the trajectory of life can shift or collapse, how forecasts in weather or finance broaden with time, how the course of evolution might easily have taken a different turn in which I would not exist.

If such small perturbations can yield radically different outcomes, it is hard to claim that I possess any inherent meaning and purpose. And yet here I am, a conscious being, compelled to ask questions — not only about the meaning of the universe, but about the meaning of my own place within it.

I ask the question because without an overarching meaning and purpose, living through the days of personal existence can easily become burdensome chore. Routines and activities begin to feel stripped of narrative, hollow in their repetition. To counter this, a local meaning can ease the weight of living. It can provide a thread of coherence, a reason to rise in the morning, and a story to live rather than endure.

How might I construct a local meaning and purpose for my life? The answer I seek must be pragmatic — something that can weave itself into the necessities and pressures of modern living yet remain simple enough to be understood and practiced by many. Perhaps it could resemble religion in its accessibility but be grounded in reason rather than just faith.

An answer is that the purpose of my life is simply to live the life that the unfolding of the universe has made possible for no apparent meaning and purpose. And if living itself is the purpose, then why not fill my days with activities that make me look forward to getting up in the morning with anticipation, enthusiasm, and vigor? Could there be any reason not to strive for this goal?

Local Meaning and the Litmus Test

“Looking forward to getting up in the morning with anticipation, enthusiasm, and vigor” becomes a litmus test for whether the activities I engage in are the right ones for making my life meaningful. To know that the trajectory of life is sound, building and curating a portfolio of engagements that makes life meaningful is, therefore, what I seek. Such a portfolio is far more promising than filling my days with activities that render the act of rising from bed a burden.

Imagine waking each morning only to drag myself to go to a job I dislike, or confronting the distasteful prospect of sixteen waking hours stretched before me with no clear sense of how to inhabit them. And then imagine repeating such morning day after day, ad nauseam. That alternative does not resemble a life worth looking forward to; it is precisely what the portfolio of meaningful engagements is meant to guard against.

The Framework

So now I have the litmus test to assess the orbit of my life. One additional tool I need to make my life meaningful is a framework that can help me fill my portfolio of engagements with appropriate activities.

The guiding principle for doing so is simple: find activities that fit the contours of what I value. How do I know what I value? By noticing what keeps me engaged. Doing them makes me stay with them. They bring me into a state of flow. They feel natural and effortless. I do not hesitate to return to them. Having them on the next day’s agenda makes me look forward to getting out of bed with anticipation.

The portfolio of engagements can be built through a few guiding steps:

• Observe: Notice what activities absorb me, where time dissolves, effort feels light, and an urge for returning to them feels natural.
• Align: Ensure the activities resonate with what I value — creativity, learning, or maintaining physical wellbeing.
• Sustain: Choose activities that can be woven into daily life and can be sustained.
• Iterate: Revisit and refine activities as circumstances shift.
• Savor: The activities that make me anticipate tomorrow’s agenda with delight; if an activity makes me savor the idea of waking up, it belongs.

This is the principle of OASIS — Observe, Align, Sustain, Iterate, Savor. The philosophy here is pragmatic existentialism. Life has no inherent meaning, but using my agency, I can create a local meaning through deliberate engagement. By curating a portfolio of engagements, I can thread coherence into the chaos, narrative into the randomness, joy into what could be burden.

Living the Gift of Another Day

The universe did not intend for me to be here. But here I am. And if I am here, why not live with meaning and purpose? Why not fill my days with activities that make me look forward to waking up?

To know if I am doing that, the litmus test is simple: each morning, do I rise with anticipation, enthusiasm, and vigor? If yes, my life is good. If not, it is time to revisit my portfolio of engagements.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

 

Origami of the Mind: Folding Free Time into Meaning

Having the luxury of discretionary time, absurdity of our predicament when confronting a silent universe becomes an opportunity, for therein lies our agency to construct a local meaning and purpose of our life.

Only when the belly is full, one is afforded the luxury to ask: What is the meaning and purpose of my life?

Arun Kumar

This morning, I sit in a comfortable chair, sipping my first cup of Earl Grey as the chill lingers outside. There are no sounds of shelling, no bullets slicing the air, no queues to fight for rations to appease the fire in my belly. In this quiet, I am free to ask questions that so many others cannot afford: What is the meaning of my life? What is its purpose?

I have the luxury of discretionary moments — after breakfast, lunch, and dinner — when I can sink into a sofa lounger and ponder not only about life in the cosmos in general, but my own in particular.

For many, life unfolds as an unbroken chain of nondiscretionary moments. And here lies a curious paradox: those without the luxury of free time cannot pause to reflect on meaning and purpose, while those who have it squander the gift on distractions that now are instantly accessible (requiring nothing more than a connection to the web), and therefore, also do not reflect on the meaning and purpose of life.

A few, however, do choose differently. They seek philosophical underpinnings for their existence. Along that introspective journey, some get lost in the labyrinth of abstract philosophical structures and fall into an abyss. Few others, on the other hand, discover simple wisdom: that meaning arises not from cosmic design but from having a portfolio of engagements that that makes us look forward to waking tomorrow.

If you find yourself with the luxury of time and a lounge sofa, recognize this: life and cosmos may not carry no inherent meaning (and you can leave that question for philosophers to figure out). However, you hold agency, the power to curate a portfolio of engagements that make your mornings an act of anticipation rather than dread.

Having the luxury of discretionary time, absurdity of our predicament when confronting a silent universe becomes an opportunity, for therein lies our agency: the chance to build a portfolio engagements that transform mornings from dread into anticipation.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

 

Local Meaning in a Silent Universe

An exploration into how a small linguistic distinction between “the meaning of life” and “the meaning of our life” mirrors philosophical pivot: from cosmic inquiry to personal agency.

The purpose of life may be as simple as this: to live.

Arun Kumar

Subtle differences in wording or punctuation can dramatically alter the perceived meaning of a sentence. A classic example illustrates this well: “Let’s eat Grandma!” versus “Let’s eat, Grandma!” The first suggests cannibalism; the second is a warm invitation to share a meal.

A similar nuance arises in the realm of existential inquiry. Consider the difference between “the meaning and purpose of life” and “the meaning and purpose of my life.” The former is expansive, probing the cosmos itself asking whether existence has a built-in rationale. The latter is intimate and personal, a local inquiry into the significance of my own ephemeral experience. The distinction resembles the mathematical contrast between global and local optimization: one seeks the best solution across the entire landscape; the other searches within a bounded, personal terrain.

To ask about the meaning and purpose of life is, implicitly, to ask whether the universe itself possesses meaning and purpose. If it does, then perhaps my life, and everyone else’s, are tethered to that larger design. But what if it does not? It’s not difficult to argue that the cosmos is, in fact, devoid of inherent meaning. It does not respond to our questions about purpose because it has none to offer.

And yet, through a long and improbable chain of coincidences, the cosmos has made my existence possible. So perhaps, rather than dwelling on the universal question, I can turn toward the personal one: to give my life a local meaning and purpose. In doing so, the focus shifts from the vast indifference of the cosmos to the terrain of my own experience.

Within this framework, meaning becomes more graspable. The purpose of life may be as simple as this: to live. And while I am engaged in the act of living, why not shape my life to feel meaningful as well? That meaning arises from the agency I possess, from the choices I make to inhabit my waking moments with intention, so that each morning I rise with a quiet sense of anticipation.

That may be all there is to it. Why would the universe have wished to be any more complicated than this?

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

To Live is the Purpose of My Existence: A Simple Response to Sooth Existential Angst

When the cosmos offers no answers about the meaning and purpose for my existence, perhaps the purpose is simply to live, and meaning comes from choosing things to do that make me look forward to getting out of bed tomorrow morning.

The purpose of my life is to live; the meaning arises from living in a way that makes me want to get up each morning.

 Arun Kumar

Summary: This essay explores how existential angst and the sense of absurdity challenge me to search for meaning. Rather than seeking grand metaphysical answers, it proposes a simpler, personal framework: the purpose of my life is to live, and meaning arises from intentional choices that make each day feel worth waking up for.

 

I am born into a cosmos that, despite all my entreaties for meaning, refuses to offer any. The sky stretches above me with no inscription, the stars blink indifferently, and the days unfold with a rhythm that feels familiar but, when examined closely, also feels alien. Beneath the surface of my routines—my striving, my planning, my pursuit for productivity—lurks a quiet dissonance. Even when everything appears normal, something ominous seems to loom just beyond perception. This is the existential angst: a persistent unease that, at any moment, a hidden veil might fall and expose the futility of who I am and what I do.

I seek an antidote to the disquiet of absurdity and angst. In that search having a meaning and purpose, even if local, will help validate my choices and make sense of my existence. Yet the search itself often feels like a labyrinth. Philosophical traditions—from Sartre’s radical freedom to Camus’s defiant revolt, to Buddhism’s layered renunciations—offer intricate architectures of thought. These superstructures, however, remain inaccessible, like cathedrals built in languages I do not speak. And so, I am left wondering: might there be a simpler answer—one that could guide me through moments of existential angst?

Perhaps there is. Not perfect, not all-encompassing, but something within reach—something that fits the resources and capacities I possess. Something that does not demand mastery of metaphysics, spiritual transcendence, or five hours of daily meditation. Just a simple framework—call it “Meaning and Purpose for Dummies”—that speaks plainly to my need for direction when the cosmos refuses to cooperate.

The answer may be this: the purpose of my life is to live.

This statement, deceptively simple, gains depth when placed in cosmic context. My existence is the result of an unfathomably improbable confluence of events. Since the Big Bang, particles collided, stars formed, planets cooled, life emerged, and evolution unfolded—until, somehow, against all odds, I arrived. A slight deviation in any of these processes, and I would not be here. Biology might have existed, but not in the form that is me. I am not inevitable; I am extremely improbable. And yet, here I am.

Given this improbable gift of existence, perhaps my purpose is not to solve the universe’s riddles, but to fully live what is, in truth, an astonishing stroke of chance. And if my purpose is to live, then why not make choices that ease the weight of living rather than turn it into a burden? If life is a walk, why make it trudge under a burning sun with a sack of stones? Let it be a walk marked by curiosity, by engagement, by moments of connection that make the journey feel alive.

Of course, choice is not always a luxury everyone possesses. Many find themselves ensnared in circumstances that feel like a noose—jobs that sap the spirit, obligations that stifle the soul. Survival often demands compromise. Yet even within constraint, there may be pockets of freedom. And whenever freedom does appear, however briefly, I retain the agency to choose with intention.

This is where the meaning of my life enters. If the purpose of life is simply to live, then meaning is what makes living feel like the quiet pleasure of a well-balanced glass of wine. It resides in the actions, vocations, and engagements that give my days texture—those things that make me look forward to getting out of bed in the morning.

Consider the eighty-nine-year-old I met during a recent visit to Tuscany, who moved with a spring in her step. She was not weighed down by thoughts of death—not because she denied its approach, but because she understood, perhaps subconsciously, that the purpose of her remaining days was simply to live them. She made choices that turned waking into anticipation.

This approach of thinking about purpose and meaning of my life does not dismiss the philosophical depth of thinkers like Sartre, Camus, or Kierkegaard. Nor does it reject the spiritual insights of Buddhism. Rather, it distills their essence into something usable. Sartre’s freedom becomes the freedom to choose engagement. Camus’s revolt becomes the decision to live despite absurdity. Buddhism’s impermanence becomes a call to savor the moment.

And so, the purpose and meaning of my life may be as simple and approachable as this: the purpose is to live; the meaning arises from living in a way that makes me want to rise each morning with anticipation.

These are simple answers I can carry. They fit in my pocket—ready to be reached when the veil begins to fall and existential angst starts to descend. They remind me of that purpose and meaning can be local to my live, even if no grand, overarching meaning governs life or the cosmos.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.