The meaning of life

The mother of all blogposts

I'm just back from a week's holiday in Spain which is a bit silly as I'm right in the middle of a 20-hour Portuguese-course. Anyway, as I was enjoying some time off from work and the chores of daily life under the Andalusian sun my mind found time to ponder that question: "What is the meaning of life?"

What's not to like?

I consider myself the kind of guy who "work to live" rather than "live to work". Despite this I feel best about myself when I actually do something creative. About now you might be asking "where the heck is this post going?" but bear with me I'm almost there. The thing is that while I find I enjoy the "good life" - relaxing, eating and drinking well under the sun, I quickly start to feel guilty as I could be using my valuable time for something more profound.

Not alone

I'm certain I'm not alone in this feeling but I'm equally certain that this feeling is far from universal. I know several people that want nothing more from life than the "buena vida" leaving the creative endeavours to the next gal or guy. This is not in any way meant to be derogative to those who have the ability to simply enjoy the comforts in life. It could well be that my "problem" is due to some kind of psychological miss-adjustment. Or it could be due to the fact that my day-job doesn't let me pursue my creative passions.

Most of all though it is probably just evidence that I've had way too much time to let my mind wander during my Spanish holiday...