Finding joy in a meaningless life
A few days ago I was riding my bike in central Oregon. I was having a good time cruising around the dirt roads and nicely graveled bike paths in oh-so-charming Camp Sherman, where the Metolius River flows. Pedaling along, idly pondering the Meaning of It All, my brain ejected a marvelous thought that instantly struck me as having a great intuitive appeal. There's no meaning to life, which is absolutely freaking glorious! I felt like a weight had been lifted from my pondering psyche. Meaning is heavy, man. It isn't something you toss around lightly. Even if you're no longer…
