North Lighthouse Hike

The following is a journal entry I wrote in the summer of 2001. I remember exactly where I was sitting, the view in front of me, and everything else in my life behind me. At the time, I knew why I was only able to write two paragraphs about the meaning of life. I had someone to smile at, and bears to chase.

Watching each wave find its ending place on the rocky shores of Grand Island allows me to question the meaning of life. Is there such a thing? Scientists think not, poets think so. As such ideas are personal ideals, we as individuals live our life as we want. Regardless of luck, we find a way to shape our own destiny from a larger predetermined agenda.

After a long journey, each wave hits the rock and is finished. After our own journey, we all will shut our eyes one final time. What we do after we first open our eyes until then is what I believe the meaning of life is. Simple.