Witch-hunting lasted for centuries, particularly in Europe and parts of America. Slavery persisted for centuries across different civilizations. For long periods, many people misunderstood the shape of the Earth. The practice of sati—burning a widow on her husband’s pyre—existed in parts of India as a cultural and social custom. Thunderstorms were often interpreted as signs of divine anger in many ancient cultures.
Entire generations lived and died believing these ideas were true. Intellectuals and authorities once dedicated their lives to witch-hunting, rewarded for identifying so-called witches and punishing them. That was considered meaningful work. In the era of slavery, laws were carefully designed and passed—by educated and influential people—to justify ownership of other humans, defining order and purpose. Artists spent their lives creating images of gods, trying to represent something invisible, believing deeply in what they were portraying. All of it felt meaningful at the time.
Fast forward a few centuries, and everything has changed. The world no longer believes in witch-hunting, slavery, or divine anger behind thunderstorms. What was once meaningful now feels irrational, cruel, and meaningless.
So what does that say about the people who lived then? Were their lives meaningless? From today’s perspective, it can feel that way—they spent decades building, defending, and refining ideas that we now reject.
Which leads to an uncomfortable thought: we, too, spend our lives searching for meaning—investing time, energy, and identity into beliefs and systems. But what if, centuries from now, those meanings are seen the same way—misguided, temporary?
Does life really need a grand meaning to be lived? Or is the search for meaning itself an illusion?
Perhaps the real freedom lies in accepting that not everything needs a higher purpose, that life does not have to justify itself through some grand narrative. So instead of searching for a meaning that must last forever, choose something smaller—something immediate.
Do work that feels honest today—even if it won’t matter in a hundred years. Treat people well—not because it’s part of a grand philosophy, but because it reduces unnecessary suffering. Stay curious—because most of what we believe will eventually be proven incomplete.
Maybe meaninglessness is not emptiness—but relief: relief from being right, from needing permanence, from carrying the burden of a perfect explanation. Life does not need to be meaningful to be lived well—it only needs to be lived consciously, kindly, and with the awareness that we might be wrong—and that’s okay.
