i'll blog about what's on my mind today. usually i get hit with something i think is profound, but nothing like that today.
i read through the first 50 pages or so of Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" and cannot help but think about what Chomsky once said about meaning:
The meaning of life is what you make of it. Life does not have any meaning apart from that, for a human, a dog, a bacterium, or anything else. It is up to you what the meaning of your life is. So, it is partially under your control.
so the inner critic in me dropped some irony in my mind this morning. the irony of creating meaning by trying to find it in a book written by someone else about man's search for meaning. *irony*. however, i don't expect to find the meaning of my life in Viktor Frankl's book. i expect what he probably intended: reading someone explain their experience of a trauma as intense as living in a nazi concentration camp in auschwitz, and reading their conclusions about the meaning life after that. i expect to be moved, touched and inspired. i think i will achieve that and beyond that, my subconscious will do it's thing. so i intend to listen to my body more attentively now that i've began the journey of reading this book, as it will inform me what my subconscious is processing. i don't know if that's how the subconscious works, it is my guess.