On Purpose and Meaning in Fiction and Reality

I read an article today about David Foster Wallace, an American writer who died this past September. While reading this story a quote jumped out at me. Wallace gave a commencement address in 2005 and said true freedom “means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed.” The phrase “construct meaning from experience” really stood out, its seems to illustrate a concept I had not been able to articulate before.

 This idea of meaning really has defined storytelling. Novels and movies are powerful forces because the lives we live follow a narrative form; these mediums are extensions of such. In stories we find meaning, whatever the characters experience builds a structure in which to view them and their story. The beauty of a story is that we are the ones who build meaning from it, we decide what the meaning is. This idea of building meaning from narratives applies to our own narrative, our struggle to find our meaning or a meaning. This is the huge existential dilemma that we all live with. All who live have experience, all search for meaning, consciously and subconsciously. Our lives, our narratives are, I think essentially about this search for meaning.

This idea of meaning is not to suggest necessarily a purpose. Purpose and meaning in this sense, are different. Purpose implies a direction, a goal to be achieved. Meaning more easily can be defined as a significance, not a reason for or a goal to. Many may use purpose to define their meaning. The meaning they gain from their experiences point to a larger purpose, a direction to be followed from point A to point B with whatever detours along the way.

However, I believe that life does not need to have a purpose to have meaning. That’s not to say life doesn’t have a purpose (a topic I may delve into at a later date) but to say that a purpose is completely unnecessary to derive meaning. Reading about David Foster Wallace and his interconnected struggle in life and literature really encapsulated this idea. Life can be purposeless, but when life ceases to have any meaning, it can become superfluous.

 David Foster Wallace committed suicide in September, he hung himself on the back patio of his house, his wife found his body. He had severe problems with depression his entire life and struggled to overcome them. I know little about him, I wish I had read him while he lived, I will read him now. What meaning is gained through experiences is different for everyone; there can be no quantitative relationship between an experience and the meaning gained from it. David Foster Wallace was an author; he exercised a choice and constructed his meaning.