the meaning of life

Been reading a book called "Man's Search for Meaning", by Viktor Frankl. (Too lazy for hyperlinks today...)

Frankl was a prisoner (and doctor) in Auschwitz, and the first - and most substantial - section of the book is about his experiences there, and about his reflections on the psychology of the inmates. This leads on to ruminations about existential meaning. (I don't mean that to sound glib.)

I take two things away from this book: (i) Something relatively 'trivial' - nothing in my life could possibly, possibly be as terrible as what those people experienced. This is sobering and humbling in itself; (ii) You can find meaning in anything if you look at it in the appropriate way - even in terrible suffering. What this means to me - at this stage in my life - is that I should accept that suffering and imperfection are inevitable parts of existence. Once I accept that, everything becomes simpler: I no longer have to battle against my profound disappointment that nothing is perfect, or rage with frustration that I don't get everything (and everyone...) that I want. Simple.

There's a line in Band of Brothers where an officer tells a petrified soldier that what's stopping that soldier functioning is his failure to "accept the fact that you're already dead." There's something analagous here for me. This isn't a counsel of despair - rather, one of realism.