The Meaning of My Life

In my previous post, I reflected on what would give people meaning in an era when artificial intelligence and automation take over many tasks that once defined us. However, after finishing that article, a question came to mind that I had left unanswered: What is my own meaning of life? Writing about general human needs and the anxiety that arises when meaning disappears is one thing. Answering what drives me personally is something entirely different.

I will have to reach that answer gradually—through small things, everyday activities that bring me joy and a sense that what I do is meaningful. Perhaps something greater is hidden in these little details.

I remember how, as a child, I could not put down a book about mammals. Its cover is still on my bookshelf, completely worn out. I loved learning how things worked. This curiosity gradually expanded—elementary school was all about physics, computer science, and mathematics. Then came web technologies, into which I dove so deeply that I shut out the world around me. I was curious. And, honestly, I still am.

Curiosity continued to follow me. History and politics in high school, philosophy and phenomenology at university. In my professional life, it turned into understanding data in marketing and operations. Later, finance. Now, when I reflect on it, perhaps it is this endless drive to understand the world that gives my life meaning.

But it is not just about knowledge. Relationships are equally essential to me. I value long-term, strong friendships. Deep conversations where topics that go beneath the surface are explored. Often, the people with whom I have these discussions become my closest friends.

And then there is something else—adventure. I am not exactly the type who jumps out of airplanes, but I still feel the need to explore uncharted paths. Sometimes these are new topics, other times projects that take years to complete. Often, they are intellectual adventures—searching for answers in places I have not explored yet.

I am inspired by extraordinary stories, remarkable people, and unique moments. I enjoy being part of something special and setting ambitious goals for myself that push me forward.

An Experience with Anxiety

It was not always this way. There was a period in my life when I was far from this mindset. During my philosophy studies, I encountered questions that led me somewhere entirely different—to emptiness. Suddenly, I did not know what gave my life meaning.

It is genuinely hard to explain, but some books by Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, and others truly are a risk to read. One can easily dive into depths from which it is not easy to resurface. And honestly, if I were a different person, I might never have come back. But I realised that my time in this world is limited. I saw my own possibilities ahead of me—who I could become.

How did it turn out? Today, outwardly, I do things much like I did in the past. However, what lies behind them is different.

And is not that exactly what might lead me to the answer to that big question about the meaning of life?

No Predefined Meaning Found

If I have learned anything from this experience, it is that my life is not driven by something predefined and unchanging. It is up to me to build it consciously, based on the options I see and the choices I make.

For me, it is about striving to understand life and the world. Building strong relationships. Taking adventurous paths toward ambitious goals. And most importantly—knowing why I get out of bed in the morning (That bit about getting out of bed is an exaggeration. Most of the posts on my blog, including this one, were written lying down.).

And today, I have that answer.

If one day I do not, I will expand my horizons until I see my possibilities again. I do not expect the answer to come from somewhere else.

And I am grateful for every single moment of emptiness, precisely because it shows me my options and who I can become.

On My Anxiety and Return to the World

This is one of those topics I need to think about for a long time before writing. Some experiences are hard to put into words—because they are, quite simply, non-transferable.

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