I have been struggling with meaning. Not in the sense that I don’t assign a hero's story to my past—I very much do. I see my struggles with my father’s death, my learning disability, and various other hurdles as magical stepping stones to the generally happy life I live today. As we’ve discussed, meaning defines the realm of the past. It’s the cognitive stories we tell ourselves about who we are.
And I believe I’ve developed some pretty healthy narratives.
Yet this past weekend, on a journey with my wife and daughter back to St. Louis for a wedding, I was reminded that perhaps we’re doing ourselves a disservice by leaving meaning solely in the past.
Let me explain.
My wife and I lived in St. Louis from 1999 to 2002 during my residency at Washington University. During that time, we moved in together, got married, and made the ridiculous decision to buy a house we planned to live in for only two years. A house we bought for a song, sold for a bundle, and that became the backdrop for many special memories of a burgeoning love affair and partnership.
As we walked down our old street this weekend, we happened upon the current owner sitting in the front yard. Naturally, we asked to take a look. While the walls had changed and the decorations were different, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia and memories wash over me.
This is a sacred place for me. Years later and miles away, that small house lives in my heart and dreams. It is not only who I was but also who I have become.
And that’s the thing about meaning. We may relegate it to the past, but I can’t help but think it also belongs squarely in our present and future. It somehow encroaches on the realm of purpose without quite crowding it out.
It’s not just my time in St. Louis; it’s also my years in Ann Arbor during college, Winnetka in high school, and downtown Chicago during medical school. It’s the mélange of people and places that have touched me, changed me, and helped shape the person I am proud to be today.
I can no longer relegate meaning to the past. It is the air I breathe and the words I speak. Every day, as I walk in purpose, I honor my past, embrace a sense of meaning, and build new memories.
Building and honoring. Honoring and building.
Meaning and purpose.
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I think of meaning as continually being made. Like a great relationship, you can meet someone great, but it has to be continually worked and fostered to be a great relationship over time (or else that great relationship will be a thing of the past).