Does having success give some sort of meaning to life? What does it mean if we are successful and what does it mean if we live an average life? Is there some sort of secret measurement for it? And what does actually success mean? What can we name success and what is actually average achievement? And what is an achievement anyway?
The man makes the measure of the man. If we make those standards, are they objective, do they really have any relevance at all? We do make standards for everything. We have standard experts. So, we know how long a kitchen knife should be, how creamy a yogurt, what resolution an optimal screen should have and how a good wine tastes. But if we make the standards for ourselves, isn’t that just as the wine would lay down the standard for itself how fruity should it be according to how fruity it actually is or how rich taste would it like to have?
Does any kind of success, whether on the family or professional level give any universal meaning to why we actually breathe out there?
As demoralizing as it may sound, no, it doesn’t. Even the life of Einstein was just only an ephemeral existence with no particular sense at all on a larger scale. If somebody uses something what we invented, what we acquired after our death that still does not give any special meaning to it. It does not add value, due to the fact that actually there is no measurement for it. And if for something we do not have a solid way of measuring, only subjective opinions, how can we affirm if a life has value or not?
Although many far-fetched theories might float around only one sure thing exists and that is us, at this very moment. In this very moment which may be hard or light, might be considered about others as successful or a failure it is only a moment and only the judgment of one single entity counts and that is ours. Our own judgment. The meaning that we see, that we allocate to is the only one that there exists. Even that, on a universal scale, is meaningless, nevertheless we as long as we exist obviously do not care about that, otherwise, our relatively short existence would seem cruel irony in comparison with the time and space dimensions of the universe we exist in.
Eating a good cookie or inventing the light bulb has around the same sense on a scale of a few hundred thousand years or millions of years or even worse, on an infinity-scale. Absolutely nothing has sense, and absolutely everything can have a sense if it makes sense for us.
When I was a kid, I often pondered upon the meaning of life. Now I do not wonder anymore. I know that is the most useless waste of time you can possibly occupy yourself with. What do you expect, that your neighbor will tell you? Your mother? Or a stranger at the bar? Every answer you will receive from these people will reflect their own way of thinking and interests. But all of them are utterly unimportant. Only your own is. Do the very thing you see a purpose in. Do the only thing that makes sense for you and only you. Because there is no measure, there is no universally excepted magical scale and there is no important and unimportant thing. Nothing is important actually, so do not bother yourself if what you are doing would make sense for others or not. Their judgment will anyway reflect their own interests and not yours. You like gardening and you are a gardener? Or you like acting and you are a world-famous actress? Great. If that makes sense for you in some way, that is the way to go. Because there is no scale. Live it, fell it and do it. That is the only scale.