Living an Absurd Life: How Do One Find Meaning in a Meaningless Existence?15 min read

I think and feel life is absurd. 

Though, as a kid, I never thought of or felt this way. Back then, life was all about waking up, eating, playing, sleeping, and doing it all over again. In my little world, that was all there was and all that mattered.

But, then, I was sent to school. It was my first time doing something I really didn’t enjoy. But, learning how to read, write, and do maths opened up a whole new universe for me – I could now learn and think for myself. But, like Adam eating the forbidden fruit, the enlightenment was also the beginning of my troubles.

What causes a person to be nihilistic?

Despite being in primary school, I would flip through pages of more advanced textbooks looking at pictures and trying to understand how stuff worked. I would sit and watch Leo and Cooper for as long as it aired on OH TV. And as I grew, I found scientific documentaries as well as science fiction movies captivating and inspiring. I even had the Curiosity app on my phone.

But, it seemed school wasn’t about learning what you liked. It was just about passing the subjects whose textbooks were, most of the time, difficult to understand. Even though I did great in school, it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. After about a decade of this, I started questioning why I was putting in so much effort into trying to understand Differentiation in Further Math or naming Alkanes in Organic Chemistry.

The argument was that “You need to do well in school to get a good job”. But, my overly active mind quickly asked the follow-up question, “Then what?”. 

Apart from the knowledge that I was never going to do anything with “2,6,10,14-Tetramethylpentadecane”, the answer that precipitated unto my consciousness was that just like other animals with their life cycles – egg, larva, pupa, adult – we humans also follow a cycle – childhood, school, work, marriage, raising children, and then death. 

I couldn’t see past that. 

It was unsettling for me. It seemed I had stumbled upon an existential truth. The realisation that when you strip away all man-made values, beliefs, and established meanings, what is seen is an inherent lack of meaning in life. A realisation that ushered in Nihilism – the belief that there is no inherent meaning to existence.

“Nihilism is just the word used for the realization that meaning is, and only ever has been, a phenomena of mind. Emerging from us, and dying with us and within us.” – Nihilin

Like most teenage kids, my response was “Why the hell should I put so much effort into anything (if nothing meant anything)?”

Anyway, video games and social media were sufficient distractions from the existential crises as “A luta continua”.

Does religion really help with existential crises?

It didn’t take long for religion to find its way into that void. It promised something more than this mundane life cycle. First, a supernatural existence—with miracles, the voice of God, and a grand purpose of saving people from a cosmically significant event: the destruction of everything at the end of time itself. Then, it promised eternity—forever with God, who would fill our hearts with light, love, happiness, and as much meaning as we could possibly hold, overflowing endlessly. The only condition was that you had to take a leap of faith and truly believe.

(at least, that was how I understood the “Gospel” at the time).

Immediately, I became a zealot. 

I had finally found something more important than school, or even life itself. Unlike other kids who just went to Church because their parents made them, I sought God “like a deer pants for the water”. I tried to eschew sin from my heart and bring others to this glorious revelation and truth—the “good news” that we are more than animals, and there was something indescribably great “on the other side”.

(It never occurred to me that the blankness “before life” might just simply continue “after life”).

I kept looking for evidence – the supernatural experiences promised in this life by the religion. I had believed entirely, yet apart from a few “demon-possessed” people falling to the floor and screaming, nothing really out of the ordinary was happening. The spiritual experiences were great – from vivid dreams to being blanketed in goosebumps during emotionally stimulating worship and prayer sessions. However, to my logical mind, this could not be all, nor a justification for the grand promise being true.

For a start, nothing broke the Laws of Physics. No religious person, presently living, has “walked on water” or “slain a lion with their bare hands”. All the outstanding testimonies were just those – tales. The more I probed, the more ridiculous questions, contradictions, and arguments I ran into. Eventually, I realised religion was mostly just subjective experiences, mixed with biases, delusions, lies, trickery, and manipulation.

(What was once outstanding to me began to sound outlandish).

If there was anything we (humans) were sure of, it was that, as far as life is concerned, we are bound by the Laws of Physics, and no one knows what happens after death. And, while some beliefs (like the religious ones) can soothe existential pangs, none of those could be proven or disproven because by design they were never about empirical evidence or a cure, but rather an opium to be regularly swallowed.

In simple terms, most humans more or less gobble up the placebo against nihilism other humans brewed over centuries in the form of religion. So that if you were born in the North of Nigeria, you most likely had Islam, and if you were born in the South like I was, you most likely had Christianity. This stands for most of the world.

“Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.” – Karl Marx

Why Life May Feel Unfair and Meaningless in Your 20s?

Without religion, I was back to my bleak animalistic life cycle view of the world. 

All the motivation I had left was that I needed to do well in school to have a chance to “succeed in life”. But, upon contemplating the second half of that argument, it started becoming abundantly clear to me that doing well in school wasn’t a guarantee of doing well in life.

And so, I started to question what I had spent all my life up to that point doing. I became a discombobulated teenager, to say the least. I was also troubled, and embarrassed of how much pride I had had in my academic and religious prowess. 

Now, not only did I think life was indifferent and meaningless, but that in fact, we have made life unfair and difficult. People who are rich weren’t the smartest, strongest or the ones that worked the hardest. Most of them just figured out a way to get more money than others. I also figured the guys who got the most sex weren’t those who were very good-looking, smart, or kind. Most of them just figured out a way to persuade the ladies to spread their legs apart.

Now, here I was without money or sex, in a world where the privileged and bad guys win. Not having accomplished anything worthwhile myself, and with that mindset, it was no mystery why I, like many 20-something-year-olds, felt life was indeed meaningless and unfair.

What Does It Feel Like to Confront Life’s Meaninglessness?

But, of course, like young adults, I used video games, friends, social media, and academic work to drum out the noise.

For some reason, the memes I found funny at the time reminded me of how much my life sucked but also managed to help me vent by helping me to laugh at myself. From Be Like Bro to Sarcasm, I laughed hard and long at myself.

Then something happened: We had a six-month Industrial Training (I.T.). All my friends and colleagues left school seeking a place to get the training. I got mine close to the school, so I stayed back. And, for the first time in my life, I had no need to prepare for tests or exams, all my friends were gone, and I was all alone.

Boredom immediately overwhelmed me. I would lie in bed all day. I wouldn’t leave my room for days.  And, I had so much time to think, especially when my battery was flat. The nights were long. There was constant chatter in my head. The voice about how much of a loser I was grew louder and louder – “You can’t afford a pair of jeans for yourself”, “she rejected you because you are broke”, “You are worthless”, “You are a burden”, “You are stupid”, etcetera.

And, the voices were true. I have not been driven to do anything very well because I saw no point in putting that much effort into anything.

My first approach was to start Googling things like “how to make money as a student” and “how to get a girlfriend”. However, as I went deeper into the rabbit hole, I found myself in the world of self-help and personal development.

And, what I quickly discovered was that the problem wasn’t that I didn’t have those things, but rather the gaping void in my heart that wanted to be filled with meaning. 

I didn’t need a girlfriend, I needed intimacy – to be touched, seen, admired. I didn’t need to get rich, I needed validation – to be seen as important, respected, and honored. 

If I got a girlfriend but didn’t feel loved by her, I would still feel miserable. This is also the same if I got some money, but never dealt with the underlying insecurities.

Books That Helped Me Make Sense of The World

I don’t recall the first book I read, but The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck and The Science of Getting Rich were among the first, and they both mind-fucked me so good I immediately fell in love with books. Within the six months of I.T., I had consumed so many books that I felt like a wineskin about to burst. 

Most of the books started by directly targeting my struggles but often ended up hitting at that need to find meaning. They were like medicine, and indeed the healing began. 

Some of the books that were most impactful on me were

• Sapiens, which explored how we, animals of no significance, managed to shape the world into what we have today, distinguishing ourselves from all other animals,
• Rich Dad Poor Dad, which gave me an overview of how to approach and gradually build wealth.
• Laws of Human Nature, which helped me explore my darker tendencies and become aware of that of others,
• 48 Laws of Power, which helped me see the countless power games subtly and overtly played in society,
• Influence, which taught me how I can be influenced and how to influence others,
• How To Make Friends and Influence People, which taught me how to make friends as the name suggested,
• Models, which gave me a healthy orientation on how to approach ladies (with honesty),
• The Surrender Experiment, which taught me how to trust the process and be patient,
• Man’s Search for Meaning, which more or less, directly addressed my struggle with meaning in a world full of pointless suffering,

And so much more

All of a sudden I felt equipped to not just live life, but to live it in a way that was personally meaningful.

It was around this time that I started my blog—as a way to dive into the parts of myself that felt lacking so I could approach life in a way that doesn’t just soothe or ignore the void but adds meaning.

“Life is meaningless, but worth living, provided you recognise it’s meaningless.” – Albert Camus.

What to do when you realise life is meaningless

Like religion, self-help and personal development weren’t a panacea for the existential crises. However, unlike religion, it didn’t promise me a grand meaning. If anything, it sort of made it even clearer how on top of there being no inherent meaning, I was not even special. And, then it went on to help me manage the meaninglessness in the most meaningful ways.

So, even though I still knew that I was a naked primate, I was free from the agony of the meaningless because I could now see that it was up to me to choose what I wanted to do with my life. The blank nature of life doesn’t make it bleak, but rather sublime:

• Instead of just learning because that is what school demands. I chose to learn what I wanted to learn. My interest in the rigid academic approach dropped, and I started freely learning and exploring art and writing which were my natural inclinations.
• Instead of just applying and working on any job, I choose to work on what I find interesting and meaningful. I started to draw art portraits for people, write for clients in the self-help niche, and teach those interested in the things I was into.
• Instead of lying and trying to impress ladies, I became honest with them about what I wanted. I started cultivating friendships, and some did turn out romantic (however, for a long time, I didn’t get a girlfriend because I had more or less filled the void of love and affection).
• Instead of seeking validation from random folks on the internet, I worked on writing books, as well as building a blog and a community. Those were personally meaningful and unique to the point that the need for comparison was minimal, and I also met a bunch of people I respected, and who gave me all the validation I needed (and, for a long time I stayed broke, but not as tortured as I was when I had no drive).

Etcetera. 

The point is, instead of seeking a solid, all-important meaning, I could now allow myself to enjoy the dynamic, ever-evolving essence of existence. I could do things that felt personally important and good, and watch life beautifully unfold in the most inexplicable of ways, filling my heart and soul with a sense of adventure.

So even though I still know how absurd life is – the inherent meaninglessness of it all – I still feel excited about what comes of it, just like I started out writing this blog post with no predetermined length, or words in mind, but just wanted to create something I felt was personally important, and have no need to be compared to something else.

“The very meaninglessness of life forces a man to create his own meaning.” – Stanley Kubrick

Conclusion: If You Say This Is the Meaning of Life, Then You Limit the Meaning of Life

In a strange, paradoxical way life is infinitely meaningful because it doesn’t have an inherent meaning.

It’s like those handwriting books we used back in nursery school. You know, the ones with rows of letters printed neatly on one line and dotted ones right below them for us to trace. They were great for helping us learn how to write at first, but eventually, we all had to let them go and develop our own handwriting.

And sure, some handwritings turned out to be prettier, neater, or easier to read than others. But that doesn’t mean everyone’s writing should look the same. That would defeat the whole point of handwriting itself. Even computers need different fonts.

Life is the same way. If you say, “This is the meaning of life”, then you limit the meaning of life. Sure, one interpretation might look admirable or even inspiring, but ultimately, it limits the very essence of life and meaning. It is like trying to give adults dotted lines to trace.

Sure, some lives might look more impactful or enjoyable than others, but just like our handwriting, they’re not meant for everyone to understand, like, or copy. And that’s fine – it’s nice enough that they’re unique.

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