Finding Meaning in Life’s Uncertainty

Why Are You Here?

If you’re reading this, it’s because, at some point, you were confronted with something too big to ignore. You didn’t choose to be here, but somehow, you are facing questions that don’t have simple answers. You’ve perhaps asked yourself,

why me? why this? what is the purpose of living when everything feels uncertain? How can I make sense of something so far beyond my control?

It’s possible, even likely, that these questions have been weighing on you for a while, maybe even pulling you down. I want you to understand, though, that these aren’t just your questions. They are the questions of every person who has ever lived. They belong to anyone who has ever experienced the beauty and the loss of life, the moments of joy and the depths of pain. They belong to those who have seen endless days and nights that slipped away too quickly. So, you are here, and nothing else matters. But if you wish to hear what I say, set aside all the conclusions you may have already drawn about life and beyond, the worth of living, or any purpose. I ask for nothing but your presence here, with only questions. Why me? Why this? What is the point of anything now? Let us begin from there…

The Burden of Seeking Answers

You are here, reading these words, and perhaps you wonder why. I am no enlightened guru, no prophet with secrets to unveil. I carry no hidden truths, for the truth is you already know. This is not a lesson, not a path to enlightenment. If anything, it is an invitation to unlearn, to loosen your grip on the conclusions you have drawn, the values you have assigned yourself, the invisible price tag you have placed upon your soul. Perhaps you have seen the world as a great machine and yourself as a cog desperately trying to fit. But you were never meant to be an instrument.

You have laughed at something foolish, something so inexplicably funny that when asked to explain, you simply couldn’t. You have wept at a film you knew was fiction, allowed yourself to sink into sorrow not because you had to, but because you could.

Why? No purpose, no grand design, only the raw, unfiltered pull of being alive. And this, this is what I ask you to see.

But why now, you may ask?

Why today?

Are you here when the future seems unpredictable?

Perhaps the world feels unrecognisable, reshaped beyond your control. Maybe you or someone you love is going through something. I understand that your condition may intensify these thoughts and feelings, or so do you think, and perhaps even that’s true. But remember the questions, the confusion, and even the fear of what lies ahead are things every person faces at some point. They are part of being human. What matters, yet here you are. In moments like these, when time feels fragile, when meaning seems distant, the question presses against you, does any of this matter?

Time’s Indifference and Our Place Within It

There’s a deep ache in knowing that time moves forward, whether we want it to or not. It moves, indifferent to our struggles, our pain, our hopes. It doesn’t pause, doesn’t stop. A wine ages, a flower blooms only to wither, a bird sings and then becomes silent. We try to hold on to time, to control it, to make it bend to our will. But the truth is, time controls us. And in its quiet, relentless march, it doesn’t ask anything of us, except that we live within it.

When you’re facing something like cancer, the awareness of time feels even more intense. The ticking of the clock becomes a constant reminder that we are all here, but only for a while. It’s natural to wonder why we exist, especially when life feels fragile, uncertain, and precious. But maybe the real question isn’t why we exist, but how we exist. How do we navigate this world when everything seems to be slipping through our fingers? How do we find meaning in moments when everything feels lost, or when fear and uncertainty weigh heavy? It’s easy to think the answers are out of reach, too distant, too impossible to find. But let me remind you, you are not alone in asking these questions. They belong to all of us, especially when we’re facing something so life-altering, something as all-encompassing as cancer.

What matters is that you’re here. You’re still here. And that is no small thing. The search for meaning in the midst of pain, uncertainty, or illness, is part of what makes us human. It’s part of what makes us resilient. You are still here, still searching, still experiencing life in its fullest form, perhaps in a way that others can’t even fathom. Every day, even when it feels impossible, you are living. And in that living, you are finding meaning. Cancer may change the way you see time, but it doesn't strip away the beauty of every moment. You might feel time slipping away, but those fleeting moments matter, they are yours. And each one is worth cherishing. The laughter of a loved one, the warmth of the sun, the quiet moments when you realise you are still here, still breathing, still fighting. That is enough. Because even in the midst of this struggle, the simple act of being here, of searching for meaning, is a victory in itself. You are still here, and that’s what matters most…

The Temptation of a Grand Design

I agree that searching for meaning in the grand design of things is tempting. To believe that our struggles are part of some larger story, that our joys and sorrows are written into the stars. But what if there is no grand design? What if life is nothing more than what it is, the laughter of a child, the warmth of the sun on your face, the quiet moments when you realise you are still here? Would that be so terrible? Would it make life any less real? We seek meaning because we fear the alternative, that life simply is. But maybe that is the most beautiful thing of all. Imagine a delicate vase, centuries old, passed through generations, priceless beyond measure. It sits on a shelf, admired and protected. And then one day, gravity decides otherwise. It slips, it falls, and in a moment, it is no more. The world does not stop turning, time does not grieve. And yet, for those who loved it, for those who cherished it, there is an undeniable truth, it mattered. Not because of its permanence but because of its existence. So it is with us.

We are here, we are fragile, and we will one day be gone. But we matter, not because we last, but because we are. To those who fear the end, I ask, has it not always been this way? Has life ever been more than a series of fleeting moments? The rainbow does not linger in the sky waiting for us to assign it meaning. The waves do not ask for applause before crashing onto the shore. The sun does not rise each day, hoping we will thank it. Life is not waiting to be understood, it is waiting to be lived. We spend so much time searching for the “right” way to live, as though meaning is a hidden key just out of reach. But the absurdity of life is that there is no right way. There is only this moment, and then the next, and then the next. Some days will be full of laughter, others will ache with sorrow. Some moments will feel unbearably heavy, others impossibly light. To be human is to exist in both.

There is no meaning greater than this: to experience it all. You are here, the protagonist of your own story, and in this moment, you hold the power to shape how you move through each day. Your journey may feel different, perhaps even harder, than what you imagined. But remember, you are not defined by the challenges you face or anything. Every passing second is yours to experience, to feel, to live. Smile when you can, laugh even through the tears, and let yourself cry when the weight of it all becomes too much. Allow yourself to feel deeply, to be vulnerable. But through it all, never let anything, no pain, no fear, define who you are or the story you are telling. Your strength is not measured by how perfectly you handle this but by how you allow yourself to be human, to live fully, and to embrace each moment, no matter how small. You are here. And what could death do worse than a life lived without living?

The Absurdity and Beauty of Living

Sure. But what of pain? What of suffering? Even if life is about nothing but living the present moments, what do we do with the ones that hurt? It is easy to talk about sunsets and laughter, but what about the days when getting out of bed feels impossible? What about the nights when the weight of everything feels unbearable? I will not lie to you. There are no easy answers. There is no secret wisdom that will take the pain away. But there is this, you are still here. And as long as you are here, you must live. If suffering exists, so too does joy. If loneliness exists, so too does love. If darkness exists, so too does light. We do not get to choose how long we have. We do not get to ask time for more than it will give. But we do get to choose how we live within it. And that is where meaning is found, not in the length of days, but in the depth of moments. In the conversations that make us forget the world for a while. In the songs that remind us of a time we cannot return to. In the laughter that echoes long after it ends. In the quiet realisation that even in uncertainty, even in pain, there is still something to hold onto. You do not need to “find” meaning; you only need to be you. To love, to laugh, to cry, to wonder, to rage, to breathe. The weight of time is heavy, but the lightness of living is real. And it is enough.

Letting Go of the Need for Justification

Maybe there was never really a question to answer. Perhaps we’ve spent too much time looking for something that was never missing. We think we need to justify life, to prove its worth. But life never asked us to explain it. It never needed us to search for meaning beyond itself. Life simply wanted us to live it. We don’t live to escape death. We don’t wake up every day trying to outrun time. And if we suffer, it doesn’t mean life has failed us. It doesn’t mean our time has been wasted.

No, life doesn’t fail. It simply is. And our job was never to give it some purpose. Our job was just to live, to wake up each day and say, "This is enough." Because really, what else could there be? Perhaps the beauty of life lies in living it, without needing any grand explanations. Life isn’t a puzzle to solve or a race to win. It’s here, and it’s enough to simply be a part of it.

Every moment counts, even the small ones, and maybe that’s where we find the true meaning. It’s not about figuring it all out, it’s about experiencing it all. Living it all. And that, in itself, is enough. We often search for answers in the big picture, trying to make sense of our struggles and joys as though they were part of some grand design. But what if there is no grand plan? What if life is simply about being? The laughter of a child, the warmth of the sun, the quiet moments that remind us we are still here, these are meaningful not because they last forever, but because they exist at all. Life about being here, right now, with all its ups and downs. Every fleeting moment is a part of the bigger story, and we don’t need to worry about what comes after. Our existence itself is enough.

The Wisdom of Nature

The waves do not resist the shore, though they know they will break upon it. They rise, they fall, they crash, they disappear. And yet, in that brief moment, they are complete. There’s no hesitation, no fear of what comes next. They simply are, without question, without regret. A candle does not mourn the wax that melts away. It doesn’t measure the minutes it has left. It simply burns, giving warmth, giving light, being exactly what it was meant to be. And when it flickers out, it is not a tragedy. It has done what it came here to do. So too, are we. We are not missing anything. We are not incomplete. We are here, in this moment, just as we are. There is no secret wisdom waiting to make life more real than it already is. There is no greater meaning hidden just out of reach. Life is already enough. It is enough to be here, to breathe, to love, to feel. It is enough to see the world as it is, fleeting, fragile, beautiful beyond words. Some days will be filled with laughter, others with silence.

Some moments will stretch on, full of meaning, while others will slip away too quickly, like sand through our fingers. And yet, every single one of them will be life. Not a preparation for something greater. Not a stepping stone towards some deeper truth. Just life, exactly as it is, in its fullness, in its weight and lightness, its joys and its pains, just as it was always meant to be. In moments of uncertainty or struggle, it’s easy to feel that life is passing us by. But just like the waves, or the flicker of a candle, every moment counts. Every breath, every heartbeat, every step you take is part of this journey. And that, in itself, is enough. We don’t need to rush towards the end, or worry about what’s next. We need only to live, to be fully present in this moment, with all its fragility and wonder. Because that’s what life is, an experience to be lived, not to be understood or explained, but simply to be felt. And when we embrace that, when we accept the fleeting nature of it all, we find that life, in all its simplicity, is already complete.

The Final Realisation: Being Here is Enough

There is no question beyond that. No purpose beyond this moment. No worth greater than the simple fact that you are here. And that has always been enough. Let yourself be here, now, in this moment. Let yourself feel it all. The world will continue, as it always does. The sun will rise, the waves will crash, the flowers will bloom and fade. Wine will age and age well. And the beauty of all this is that you’ve already known it all. Why are you here? Maybe you wanted to wipe the slate clean, dust off the board, and gaze out the window at the drifting clouds and carefree birds. You’ve come to realise that your restlessness wasn’t about searching for answers, but from the wrong conclusions you made along the way. Each day, you’ll live a life worthy of an Oscar. This is life, after all—yours, mine, and the lives of every living soul. Perhaps, what could be called an answer is this: rest in yourself. Take back control of your life and don’t let anything—be it illness or anything else, steal a second from you. Don’t let anything rob you of the moments where you can feel the laughter of a child, the warmth of the sun on your face, or the quiet realisation that you are still here. And for now, that’s enough…

Enjoy this poem I wrote for you:

The wine will age, the flower decay,

the waves will crash, then wash away.

Yet still, the sun will kiss your skin,

and laughter spill from deep within.

No script to read, no path to find,

just moments, fleeting, but they're mine.

Not made to last, not built to stay,

but here, but now, so live today…

Edited by: Katheeja Imani