In a race to survive, we become mentally paralyzed-like a dove whose wings have been clipped and soon forgets that she can fly.

While making money to sustain our needs is inevitable, in the making of a living we sometimes forget our unique gifts, we temporarily lose touch with the enormity of our inner being, and we distance ourselves from the confidence of our unique expressions. We give up our dreams, our art, our purpose, and trade our lives in exchange for money so that we can make a living. Failing to recognize that these вЂњdis- easesвЂќ and uncomfortable emotions are our soulвЂ™s way of saying, вЂњWake up! ItвЂ™s time for a change, baby. We surround ourselves with anxiety, stress and depression. Unable to forgive, we hold on to the pain and we blame people, things, and circumstances for our unhappiness.

We buy into the empty promises of cosmetics and luxury products-all of which are illusions fabricated by marketers. We compete over beauty, status and owning stuff. We distract ourselves with the noise of media and other peopleвЂ™s opinions. We get stuck in jobs and relationships that we dislike. We treat time as a cheap commodity that we blindly waste. We stride through life as if we will live forever.

I race and I chase, all so that I can make more money, have more success, be more attractive, and hopefully be happier in some distant future when IвЂ™ve hit some superficial and randomly selected target.Д«ut will that day ever arrive? You and I both know how this game goes: the wanting for more never ends and happiness will always (unless we intervene) appear to be just a reach away, in вЂњsome dayвЂќ land, when weвЂ™ve finished this project or have reached that goal. вЂњ All this chasing for what?вЂќ I asked myself. I reflected on my own experiences-particularly my own вЂњblindвЂќ chase towards a more promising tomorrow. I looked away towards the empty space along the aisle to my right, so that my distracting neighbor was no longer in my peripheral. I pondered this as I sat uncomfortably in the middle seat, squished between my husband on my right-who was napping in the aisle seat-and an annoying guy to my left-who was playing a distracting driving game, in which his iPad was used as the steering wheel, causing him to move wildly about his seat. вЂњ What is the meaning of it all? What is the purpose of life?вЂќ I asked silently in the privacy of my thoughts. It seems like, even though thereвЂ™s an abundance of goodness in our lives, the prevalent theme seems to be this struggle to find balance, peace and happiness. I mean, when I look around, I see a lot of struggling-in my own life and in the lives of others. вЂњ What is the point of life, when we come to the end?вЂќ I wondered. I spent the rest of that flight, and weekend reflecting on the meaning of life. I was just getting on a flight when I opened that link on my phone, and by the time I had finished reading it, tears were streaming down. While thoughts about life, death and purpose drift in and out of my consciousness on a regular basis, the seed of this post was planted, when Pooja sent me a link to вЂњ The Last PostвЂќ by Derek Miller. Observing how we do what we do, the struggles we put ourselves through, the drama, the pain and the suffering. Lately, IвЂ™ve been thinking a lot about the meaning of life and the impermanent nature of it all.

What is the meaning of life