Boats, Bridges, and Where Meaning Comes From

(... some white space to take a deep breath and relax ...)

Happiness has always been an elusive concept to me. It is a black box. Every attempt to define it seems to drive it further away. While definitions are required for scientific studies and frameworks are helpful for understanding, there is something quite koan-like about the nature of such ultimate concepts: any attempt to strictly define them extinguishes them. 

I felt this acutely when I was severely depressed several years ago. My mind was suffering from malaise, drowning in rumination, worries, and regrets. I was deprived of something essential, but I couldn’t name what it was. 

In practice, the definition of happiness itself isn’t as important as how you genuinely feel. If you feel “happy,” then you are. Despite how elusive the idea is, we all carry an undefinable internal definition—something that can only be known to be true when it is felt. You have to rely on your senses, not your intellect, for its perception.

But for those who can’t help but intellectualize, as I do, I’d like to share my theory for the origin of meaning. In the modern world we live in, a lot of people feel unhappy about themselves and where they are in life. A central issue, at least as it appears to me, has to do with purpose 

and meaning, or the lack of both.

We often confound these terms because we fail to define what we mean when we discuss them. Conversations built on that shaky foundation only leads to confusion. That’s understandable, these concepts are genuinely hard to pin down.

This post is my attempt to examine these terms and to understand the relationship between them in a coherent way. 

With that context set, I can explain my theory of meaning and fulfillment.

The Model

People tend to think of purpose as the “why.” I interpret it differently. I think things start a step further back.

The origin of this entire process begins with yourself. The true source of it all is love and care—for anything or anyone.

Purpose is simply what you do, in the broad sense. It is the vehicle, not the fuel. 

Purpose is the what, not the why.

Purpose is an outward vector of your service toward something or someone you love.

• For a pet owner, the purpose is to take good care of their pet.
• For a musician, the purpose might be to teach the craft or share the joy of sound.

The vector can materialize in any direction, but it is always an outward expression of the love and care that started it all.

I should also note that society may not have a readily available label for what it is that you love or care about. It may not have a “role” named after it, like nurse or police officer. So don’t feel confined by that. You can love, care, and live as “undefined”—just as undefined itself is still a concrete concept in programming languages.

The Bridge: Trust and Relationship

As you put your love and care into action, you inevitably interact with others—friends, parents, coworkers, or the public. Through these interactions, trust accrues like deposits. Think of trust as the bricks needed to build a bridge. As more trust accumulates, a structure begins to form: this is the relationship.

Trust is invisible, but it compounds over time. It is the absolute prerequisite to building any relationship.

Trust doesn’t just create a relationship; it fortifies it. If you genuinely trust someone with your life, it’s because you know they hold you in their heart, that their priority is looking out for you because they love and care about you, just as you do for them. This mutual recognition and reciprocation is what strengthens and reinforces the relationship.

The Return: Where Meaning Comes From

This is the part I find most interesting.

Many people experience a pervasive sense of meaninglessness in their lives. I was no different. When I look back at my own depression, I can see that my suffering wasn’t just emotional—it was structural. Something essential in my connection to the world had broken down.

At the time, I was almost exclusively focused on bettering myself. What’s in it for me? How will I gain from this interaction? My time, energy, and effort were channeled into self-growth, career advancement, and optimization of the self.

Yet this exclusive pursuit closed me off from the rest of the world. In doing so, it deprived me of everything else that actually mattered. It was a nullifying experience—one I never want to go through again. To be clear, it wasn’t self-improvement itself that caused this, but the exclusive pursuit of it at the expense of everything else.

If you look at the model, you’ll notice a dotted arrow flowing from relationship back to the self.

The meaning of this—pun intended—cannot be overstated. Meaning is inherently subjective; it is an interpretation of the mind. It does not originate from thinking about ourselves or pursuing things solely for ourselves. It must be derived from the relationships we establish with the external world.

You could say that meaning is a byproduct. It is the resonance that travels back to you across the bridge of relationship that you built through your purpose.

You cannot pursue meaning directly. You must build the bridge that allows meaning to flow back to you.

The Insulator: The Paradox of Fulfillment

In this model, being self-focused, or being “calculating” in your interactions, acts as an insulator. It blocks the connection required for meaning to flow back to you.

This explains the Paradox of Fulfillment: the direct pursuit of happiness pushes it away, while the abandonment of self-interest invites it in.

A Zen metaphor illustrates this well.

If you are a “Full Boat”—full of self, ego, and calculation—you push others away, crash into them, and create conflict.

The key idea here is simple: you cannot be “full of yourself” and “fulfilled” at the same time.

If you feel your job is pointless and that you’re only doing it for the paycheck, the cause is often self-evident. Nothing was being cultivated from the start, and how you feel now is simply a symptom of the interactions you’ve had up until this point.

A nurse who genuinely cares about their work is engaged. They derive fulfillment (a feeling) and meaning (an understanding) almost effortlessly, because both are byproducts of what they’ve been cultivating all along. Someone who doesn’t care, by contrast, is merely a technician performing tasks. The paycheck may be the same, but one burns out while the other feels empowered.

The Obstacle: The Zero-Sum Operating System

If this model is correct, a natural question follows: why don’t we live this way by default?

To apply this model, we need to examine our underlying mindset: zero-sum versus win-win.

We tend to default to a zero-sum mindset without realizing it. This is dangerous because bad habits compound over time—just like good ones. As long as we aren’t living alone on the planet, I believe the best strategy is to strive for win-win. But to do that, you have to consciously uninstall your default operating system.

Why is this our default?

I once read an explanation from a neuroscience researcher suggesting that feelings like jealousy function as a primordial algorithm, a quick way for our ancestors to assess their relative position within an in-group and their access to limited resources. When you feel jealous of someone, it’s often because they are socially close to you. The primal brain interprets their gain as your potential loss.

Understanding this, that these feelings are protective instincts, can bring some peace. Your body is trying to look out for you using whatever tools it has available, however primitive they may be. But we no longer live in that survival environment.

We may be able to survive alone, but we must work together to thrive. Viewing others as adversaries puts you at a lifelong disadvantage, potentially fast-tracking you to irrelevance.

Conclusion: Becoming Anti-Fragile

If you confuse your source (love and care) with your vehicle (purpose or job), you put yourself in a fragile position. If you believe your purpose is your job, then when that job disappears, so does your “why,” leaving you feeling empty.

Conversely, realizing that your source is love and care, and that what you do is merely a vehicle, makes you anti-fragile. Even if the job disappears, the source remains. You simply adapt and find a new way to channel it.

So the real question isn’t, “What is my purpose?”

The real question is: What do you truly love and care for? Or, using the original meaning of the word passion: What do you love enough that you are willing to suffer for it?

That is the question that kicks everything off.

And if you aren’t yet sure what it is that you love or how to discern it, carry this line from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe with you: “Love does not dominate; it cultivates.”