I remember the first time my dad saw grey hairs on my head. He wore a puzzled look on his face while giving it a close examination.

“Vito, grey hairs? Life isn’t that tough.”

Interesting for him to say that considering he immigrated to Canada and worked non-stop since he was seventeen to help provide for his family, then provide for the family he started. I know he went through a lot before and when he got here.

Looking back on it, I’m sure he was really telling me to relax. Take it easy.

Unfortunately, I’ve been caught up in a quest for meaning since my teenage years. It’s the question we all ask ourselves at one point:

What is the meaning of life?

Variations include what is the meaning of my life/the universe/all of this or substitute the word meaning for the word purpose.

I envy those for whom this is a passing question fo interest. Something that comes up on the radar screen periodically and then goes away, to be replaced by more important matters at hand.

Not me.

I’m in that category where the question drives a life-long obsession.

Although I cannot point to a particular event that caused this, my old friend and spiritual mentor made some pretty good guesses. Unfortunately, we never had the time to explore my origin story further and I’m stuck dealing with it.

This question for meaning is no doubt the primary driver over my study, fascination and practice of religion. It’s through it, I have been able to develop a language to speak about it.

In religious terms, the quest for meaning is known as the search. It’s seeking something.

While I would be happy to accept the conclusion of the many thinkers before me who pointedly arrived at an answer and proclaimed, “I got it! You can stop now.”… I can’t.

Their answers create more questions.

I can’t even say I’m farther along than when I started. My thought process has matured (thankfully), but it’s still not any clearer if I’ve arrived at any great conclusion.

It feels like inching farther along towards an infinite eternity, each step growing closer, but only made to realize the path is so much longer than you ever anticipated.

Perhaps there’s an expectation of what will be found at the end, when the reality is so much different.

Maybe my dad was right.

Or maybe we were never meant to solve that question in our lifetime.