The human obsession with purpose is a curious phenomenon. We spend our lives chasing goals, crafting narratives, and constructing meaning, as if the universe owes us an explanation for our existence. From the moment we learn to speak, we are asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”—a question that assumes life is a linear path toward some grand destination. But what if this relentless pursuit of purpose is just a distraction from the inherent absurdity of existence? What if, instead of searching for meaning, we embraced the idea that life might not have one at all? On one hand, purpose gives us direction. It motivates us to get out of bed, to strive for success, and to contribute to society. Without it, life might feel aimless, like a ship adrift in an endless ocean. Yet, on the other hand, this obsession can feel like a self-imposed burden. We tie our self-worth to achievements, milestones, and societal expectations, often forgetting that these constructs are human-made. The universe, indifferent to our struggles, continues to expand, stars burn out, and galaxies collide—all without a care for our existential musings.
From a philosophical standpoint, the debate between purpose and absurdity is not new. Albert Camus, in his essay The Myth of Sisyphus, argues that life is inherently meaningless, and our search for purpose is a futile attempt to impose order on chaos. Sisyphus, condemned to roll a boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down, embodies the absurdity of human existence. Yet, Camus suggests that Sisyphus can find happiness in his task, not because it has meaning, but because he chooses to embrace the struggle. This idea challenges the notion that purpose is necessary for fulfillment. Instead, it proposes that we can find joy in the act of living itself, regardless of whether it leads to some grand conclusion. But let’s be honest—most of us aren’t Sisyphus. We’re not content with rolling boulders. We want to know why we’re rolling them. And therein lies the tension: the human need for purpose versus the universe’s indifference.
On the flip side, dismissing purpose entirely can feel nihilistic and, frankly, a bit depressing. Purpose, even if self-constructed, gives us a sense of agency. It allows us to create meaning in a world that might otherwise feel chaotic. For example, a doctor might find purpose in saving lives, an artist in creating beauty, and a teacher in shaping minds. These roles provide structure and fulfillment, even if they are ultimately small in the grand scheme of the cosmos. Moreover, purpose can be a survival mechanism. It helps us cope with suffering, loss, and the inevitability of death. Without it, we might succumb to despair. But here’s the catch: when purpose becomes an obsession, it can blind us to the present moment. We become so focused on the destination that we forget to enjoy the journey. We measure our lives by external achievements rather than internal contentment, and in doing so, we risk missing the point entirely.
So, where does this leave us? Perhaps the answer lies in balance. We can acknowledge the absurdity of existence without abandoning the pursuit of purpose. We can strive for goals while remaining open to the idea that life’s meaning might be found in the small, mundane moments—the warmth of the sun on our skin, the laughter of a friend, or the taste of a good meal. After all, if the universe is indifferent, then we are free to create our own meaning. And if that meaning is nothing more than enjoying the ride, then so be it. In the end, the joke might be on us: we spend our lives searching for purpose, only to realize that the search itself is the purpose. And if that’s not absurd, I don’t know what is.