Alright, so this post is going to get pretty deep. Like, meaning of life deep. And the weird thing? It all started because of my son.

The other night, I was sitting in bed when Flynn came in, looking kind of serious. The first thing he said was, “When can we get our own room?”

Ah, classic sibling rivalry. Clearly, he and his brother had just had words. I told him, “I’m working on it, okay? You might have to wait a year.” (Honestly, even that might’ve been optimistic.)

But apparently, that wasn’t the real issue.

Because right after that, he flopped down next to me and, without any kind of warning, announced that life felt boring. Then he followed it up with:

“I just don’t understand what the point of it all is.”

Wait, what? How did we go from “room drama” to an existential crisis in under sixty seconds?

And that’s how I ended up watching a YouTube video about the meaning of life with my son - something I never thought would be part of my Friday evening plans.

Now, for the record, I do sometimes wonder about life’s purpose myself, but those thoughts usually stay locked inside my head. And they’ve only really been hanging around for the past year or so. So no, he didn’t “get it from me.”

When I asked him the next day where it came from, he told me one of his friends had been talking about it. So now, apparently, my 10-year-old has befriended a miniature philosopher.

The Video That Hooked Us

The video started with pretty heavy questions:

Why am I here? What’s my life purpose? Why should I care about anything if it’s all going to end someday?

Yep, I told you it was deep.

Look, I’m fully aware of how strange this all sounds - Friday night, me and my 10-year-old in bed, watching a philosophical breakdown of the meaning of life. But you know what? I kind of loved it. The video was genuinely interesting and got me thinking, while Flynn lay quietly beside me in my arms, completely absorbed.

So, let me tell you about this video…

Tolstoy’s Crisis

The video was about Leo Tolstoy, the famous Russian author of War and Peace. At 50, Tolstoy had everything: wealth, family, a vast estate. Yet he spiralled into a deep existential crisis. All his past happiness suddenly felt hollow.

The big “why” questions haunted him: Why live if everything ends?

Tolstoy searched everywhere for answers - philosophies, ideologies, scientific theories - but nothing brought peace.

He observed that people tended to respond to life’s absurdity in four ways:

1. Absurdism – Ignoring the problem. Some people just say, “Life’s absurd, so what?” They live their lives without overthinking. But Tolstoy thought that if you have a fully functioning mind, ignoring it isn’t really a solution. Especially after losing loved ones or going through hard times, you can’t just pretend it’s not real.

2. Epicureanism – Chasing pleasure. Others fill their lives with pleasure - money, entertainment, relationships - to distract themselves from life’s scary questions. But Tolstoy saw this as temporary relief. It doesn’t satisfy the deeper hunger for meaning and ultimately leads to dissatisfaction.

3. Despair – Giving up. Some people get overwhelmed by life’s absurdity and give up on living. Tolstoy rejected this option. If you’re in an existential crisis, don’t let it consume you; answers come with time.

4. Passive resignation – Numb endurance. This is when people recognise life’s absurdity and futility, but feel too exhausted to fight it. They just exist in a kind of emotional paralysis - fully aware but unable to move forward. Tolstoy saw this as a sad dead-end with no real peace.

The Turning Point

Then Tolstoy began paying attention to the people around him - particularly the poor.

Despite enduring unimaginable hardship, they carried an unshakable faith in God. This faith gave them purpose, strength, and the ability to endure suffering without losing hope.

Tolstoy realised that life couldn’t be understood by reason alone. It required belief in something bigger than the material world. He came to believe that faith in the infinite was the key to transcending the limitations of our finite, painful lives.

From then on, he simplified his life, embraced humility and service, and discovered genuine contentment. For Tolstoy, meaning wasn’t found in wealth or intellect - it was in trusting something greater than himself.

What I Took Away

Listening to Tolstoy’s journey reminded me of something I’ve heard about in stories of addiction and recovery - the way people find hope and strength by believing in something beyond themselves.

It doesn’t have to be God. I’m not religious, but I do believe there’s something beyond just us. I don’t know exactly what it is or what it looks like - but I find comfort in the idea that it’s there.

It’s okay to ask the big questions. To wonder what it all means.

But maybe meaning isn’t always found in the answers - maybe it’s in the moments we share while we’re searching. Even the unexpected ones, like watching a deep philosophical video in bed with your 10-year-old on a Friday night.

If you’re wondering about life’s purpose, start there. Sit with someone you love. Ask the big questions together. Because sometimes, meaning begins in the asking. 🩷