A few years ago I went through what I guess would be called an existential crisis. I spent a few months doing everything short of wearing all black and smoking cigarettes with with those long plastic holders.
Guess what I figured out about it? Nothin.
I'm not at all suggesting that life means nothing. All I'm saying is that the pursuit of the answer is about as frustrating and useless as an Anthony Weiner tweet.
I read Viktor Frankl, I meditated, I boozed and I thought for hours. Nothin.
After all, finding meaning in something that already happened, is happening or will happen after all is just a guess.
Honestly, don't you think if someone knew the meaning of life, they would share it with and include everyone. Sort of like, if some group figured out the way to salvation wouldn't they include everyone? Oops....
So for now I'm content with leaving the Meaning of Life to the blokes of Monty Python.
Oh, and if you figure it out, keep it to yourself....