When Meaning Fled
Once, Meaning was not of this world.
It began as divine, the wisdom through which patterns were formed. The movements of planets… of stars… of galaxies —
Each in loyal service to a grand design.
It existed everywhere and nowhere at once, the substance of time and space.
When consciousness was born, Meaning found its first home. A home with those who saw the patterns. Who contemplated them. Who came to revere them.
And Meaning thus found its home in worship-houses. Those places where the lines between material and spiritual — between physical and metaphysical — were blurred. The places where the soft curtains between existence and nonexistence are nigh transparent.
Where patterns become miracles, and vision begets awe.
And there she stayed, until clergy abandoned their depth for dogma, their consistency for contradiction, and their kindness for cruelty. Until corruption and hypocrisy drove her out.
Betrayed by those who welcomed her, she lost her faith.
Meaning wandered until she found houses of debate. Houses of philosophy. Of philanthropy. Places where the finer points of our nature were examined, and where the structure of civilization took root. Dialogue itself became meaningful, and humanity grew. There she made her home.
But dialogue was often reserved for the wealthy — those who could invest themselves in it without worry for the bread on their table.
They used their knowledge to gain power, and their power became hegemony — and hegemony spurns equality. Their debate turned to governance, and their governance into posturing. Their wealth begot exclusivity, their exclusivity, decadence, and their decadence, rot.
And Meaning was exiled once again: forced to leave behind her reason as she fled.
She wandered again until she discovered our houses of learning. Houses where truth was pursued and people strove to prove themselves wrong again and again, until what could endure was left to stand. Places where dialogue could still take place, even without the purpose it once had…
But dialogue without reason led to consensus without conviction — agreement without awareness — and that led to exclusion. Those pursuing objective truth were sidelined, their paths cut short. Teachers forgot how to hold contradiction, and their students forgot how to acknowledge it. The schools became steeped in self-importance, their walls adorned with empty accolades. Their publications’ factuality became fragility, and fragility became fracture. Their words became sterile. Even hostile.
They drove Meaning out with their dissenters, and she found herself wandering once again, bereft, too, of the knowledge she left behind.
We searched for places to house her lost belongings — the fragments we could still find. We built museums, great houses that enshrined what she left behind. After a time, she too found a refuge there… A place which looked peaceful — looked like home…
But the warmth was gone — Their curators held her faith in suspense amidst a crystal case, her reason behind locked displays, and her knowledge… reduced to naught but grains of sand removed from the sea.
Stars plucked from the sky and left alone, robbed of their shine.
They became altars to ego — halls of hubris for those who deign to control the present by altering the past. She was left to exile yet again, her expression lost with her.
Then our world got bigger. Even as our huts became halls — our shacks became slums. We traded ports for planes and ships for skyscrapers. Our foundations for futility. Yet we created shared spaces for all — spaces where we could hear each other. Spaces where we could help each other.
Meaning found a home among our community centers, our town squares, and even our airports — places of connection to a world we'd never known. For a time, she was welcome there among us — still in mourning for what she lost.
But in our complacency, we were unprepared for fear. We mistook our abundance for peace — our prosperity for salvation. When that calm was broken, we mistook fright for fellowship. We closed our doors in the name of security, filling our ears with comforting noise. Meaning fled with the foreigner. Without her unity, we were left hollow.
Then, for a fleeting moment, we saw a new spark of hope. A space that seemed to reconnect us to our past. To return us to a time when messages crossed our known world in the blink of an eye. Like the town squares and debate houses of our past, all of humanity came together once more… in a place where dialogue felt possible.
A place where Meaning could exist.
Where she could be safe.
A space where maybe — just maybe — she could reclaim all she had left behind.
And yet, we denied her even this refuge. We invested those spaces with vitriol, saturated them with superficiality, engorged them with emptiness. We inundated our lives with nugatory noise, choosing comfort over conscience. Choosing rallies over reality; tales over truth. Once again we drove her out — our touch with reality lost to the fog.
And so she yet wanders, her faith in suspension.
Left in exile, she is destitute of her reason.
Abandoned, she sits bereft of her knowledge.
Robbed of her expression, her voice is silenced.
Deprived of her unity, she remains alone.
Stripped of her reality, she is steeped in sorrow.
But not all is lost, for Meaning has one more abode. One that can heal her. She can live inside each of us. In our minds, and in our hearts. Her presence is transient — she has no permanent home.
But we can restore her faith. Strengthen her reason. We can return her knowledge, free her expression… listen to her voice. We can embrace her unity — reconnect with her reality. We can transform her sorrow into joy… her mourning into celebration.
Meaning awaits — for now… but the responsibility is ours.
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