Existentialism + Meaning Making

The Seven Dimensions of In-between, Part Seven

Speaking of meaning… The question is not “What is the answer?” but “How do we live in the absence of one?”

Existentialism reminds us that life doesn’t come with a built-in manual. Meaning isn’t delivered; it’s forged. In the in-between, this hits hard. The old frameworks fall away. The future’s too foggy to see. And we’re left with the most ancient of questions: What now? What for? Why stay?

Camus gave us a novel take on Sisyphus (the man condemned to pushing the rock uphill, over and over, knowing it will roll back down). Camus called this the absurd, our desire for clarity in a world that offers none. But here’s the twist: Sisyphus, fully aware of the futility, finds joy in the pushing. Not in delusion. In presence! In love with the what is of right now.

Camus also tells us the universe is indifferent. I disagree. The universe buzzes with microbes, starlight and memory. It may not give us answers, but it offers textures. Rhythms. Chance encounters. Dragonflies. Bread rising. A stranger smiling at your grief and saying, “me too.”

So maybe meaning isn’t something we find. Maybe it’s something we make out of the raw stuff of uncertainty, absurdity, pain, and breath. Small inspired actions, one after another, until one day, you realize you’re not just surviving. You’re weaving a new myth. Arriving. Thriving.

And no, we don’t know what happened to Sisyphus. The Greeks didn’t finish the story. Maybe the rock grew wings. Maybe he met someone on the next ridge. Maybe the rock turned into a seed.

Embodied example: You stand at the sink, washing dishes after a gathering. Not rushing, not escaping. Just touching each glass, each plate, each fragment of the night. The warm water becomes prayer. The act, a quiet form of love. There is no grand legacy. Just this moment. This meaning. This touch. It is enough.

The not final frontier.

With all these shifts happening, within us and mirrored in the reality of an exponential pace, it’s no wonder some of us feel disoriented, frustrated, unwell. Let’s revisit one concept: We, me, you, are lucky to be in this spot right now. Uncertainty has reached mainstream awareness, and the chorus is less likely to judge our wandering. They might even envy it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told in admiration, “But you Shel, you can do anything. You always come up with something better than the last.” And “you’ve done so many amazing things.” What few got to really see is how I too ached through transition, questioned my abilities, and felt utterly rudderless. But they are right. If not this, something better.

Unusual for generations before mine, I began traipsing through the unknown after graduating college during a major recession (1993). There were no digital job boards. No accessible web. Just newspapers, libraries, and a lot of hard knocks. I built a rhythm: work hard for some years, then travel or return to school… run out of money, then work hard again. A cycle only recently seen as valid. Like many Gen Xers, I learned early there were no guarantees. Instead of dwelling in the inevitability of failure, I chose to invent. To redesign myself, again and again, all the way to now.

Creation and meaning making have never failed me. And they won’t fail you, especially if you give yourself room to breathe, to mourn, to imagine, to fully be. Trust the grace in the space between. Let it hold you for a while. You won’t just be fine.

You’ll be more than you could have imagined.

And you might even laugh a little at your newly shaped wings.