Why Meaning Matters

In Viktor Frankl’s classic work Man’s Search for Meaning, he says that his fellow prisoners in the Auschwitz death camp were more likely to survive not because they were young and strong but because they had something to live for, something that gave meaning to their lives. Someone they loved and hoped to see again. Compelling work. Religious faith. At Auschwitz, meaning was often the difference between death and life.

And the same rule applies in our world. Meaning changes everything. I was always a huge Zig Ziglar fan. Zig, as he called himself, was a premier motivator, sales trainer, and inspiring individual of his time. As I recount elsewhere in these pages, it was my incredible privilege to edit his last book. Zig loved to tell the story of an individual who passed three workers digging a ditch. He asked each of them what they were doing.

“I’m digging a ditch,” the first one said with annoyance, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“I’m making $17 an hour,” said the second. “I’m building a cathedral,” said the third.

The meaning we ascribe to our efforts, situations, and lives dictates the extent to which we find satisfaction and happiness, even in the simplest or most menial tasks.

Or, as Gandhi put it, “What you do is insignificant, but it is essential that you do it.”

Sadly, we live in times of great alienation, anxiety, and depression. We have at our fingertips the most magnificent communication devices the world has ever known, yet we feel increasingly isolated. Sometimes, I remind people that there is an app on the phone called “the phone.” It actually allows you to hear the voice of another human being in real-time. Instead, we live in a world of silence, where what little contact we have with our fellows is often thin-sliced into a few words of a text or even an emoji meant to capture and convey emotion. How sad.

The great writer Ezra Pound said, “Only connect.” Connection leads to purpose, satisfaction, a common cause, and, ultimately, meaning. So, this is a book about people who connected deeply with others, with their world, and with their dreams. In The Road Less Traveled, M. Scott Peck talks about the concept of cathexis. It is a profoundly satisfying state in which the separation between you and the object or person with which you are cathexing or connecting on an extremely deep level literally disappears. Peck gives the example of an individual working in her rose garden, when time stands still because she is so absorbed in the work of cutting and pruning.

What do you cathexit with? Where do you achieve that sense of flow state, time standing still, perhaps doing something at work that you would do even if you weren’t paid to do it?

There is a concept of two worlds in my faith—this world, the world of work, and the next world, the world to come, an entirely spiritual place known as Olam Ha-Ba. That is the traditional Jewish concept of heaven. The sages teach that we earn our place in Olam Ha-Ba with every good deed we do, while some people earn their Olam Ha-Ba, their place in the next world, in a single moment of action, of grace, of forgiveness, of return. In the pages that follow, you will read stories about people whose entire lives were dedicated to the pursuit of meaning through their work, study, play, connections with others, or love. And then, you will read about others who achieved their Olam Ha-Ba, their immortality, their ticket to the next world, in a single moment when they transcended their limitations and became something bigger, better, and more meaningful than they might ever have imagined.

I’m sharing these stories with you not to make you jealous, but to inspire you to ask, “Where do I find meaning in my life?” It is said that we live our lives forward, but only understand them backwards. This is the moment to look back, despite what Negro League star Satchel Paige used to say: “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you!”

But seriously. Look back. Where have you found meaning in your life? What will you be remembered for? Our lives can be meaningful even though we aren’t perfect. One of the most important takeaways I will share with you later in the book—here’s a quick preview—is that your entire life story doesn’t have to go into your book. You can draw a curtain around the events that you wish you could have back, or you wish had never happened in the first place. I will describe myMom’s story toward the end of the book. The part that we wanted to preserve for future generations was her early years, not the disappointment of a divorce or the struggles she had with my siblings and me.

I mention all this because sometimes people are concerned that they are not being truthful, or wholly truthful, if they omit certain elements from the recounting of their lives, whether we are talking about their personal lives, business careers, medical practices, or what have you. When you do your own book, you have what they call in Hollywood the“final cut.” You get to decide what stays in and what is omitted. It is not about shading the truth; it is about preserving what matters and letting the rest go. Nobody is perfect, and nobody expects a life described in a book to be perfect, either.

Along those lines, I have discovered that when doing memoirs, the first draft is often what I’ve come to call the“therapy draft.” That is where the client gets the whole story out, the good, the bad, and the ugly (sometimes the very ugly!). Then, when the client sees what they said, captured in chapter form in the cold light of day, the response is usually, “Whoa! I can’t have that in there!” And out it goes. A book that seeks to capture meaning is not an opportunity to settle old scores, get back at people, or prove how right you were (at least, not when I’m doing the book). First, there are libel laws. Private figures have a right not to have their reputations besmirched in print. But on top of that, nobody likes a sore winner. If you are doing a book, it is because you have been successful in life.Reminding folks about a situation with a business associate or brother-in-law, even when the other person was clearly at fault, doesn’t reflect well on you if you are using your book as a platform for getting even. So, the rule of thumb is that you get to omit the parts of your life experience that you might not want to relive, or you might not want others to know about, and if you are doing things the right way, you don’t dig up

bones and harm others’ reputations. That is just not cricket.

So, to come back to the original subject of this chapter, and of this entire book, really, meaning is what matters. It is not the event—it is not the digging of the ditch—it is the outcome. The building of the cathedral. Your life is a cathedral. You built it, and now, it is time to step back and admire your handiwork. Yes, we stand on the shoulders of giants, and yes, perhaps there was a spiritual dimension to your success that you would like to give credit to the Being that gave you the ability to do what you do, or not. But there comes a time in every person’s life when she gets to say, “How did I get here?How did this happen?” Not just because she wants the answers to those questions, but because others—some alive now, some not yet born—will want the answers, too.

What if you don’t remember it exactly? Who cares! Memory is a funny thing. It is not a smartphone recording every word that was said, every gesture, every nuance. It is just our best attempt to reconstruct and understand what happened. Nothing wrong with that. It is often an iterative process. We talk, you get the draft back, and that triggers other memories or corrections to the memories we have already captured. That is part of the fun, reawakening experiences buried in our subconscious and happily conducting them to the light of day.

Along those lines, a book that captures of the meaning of your life isn’t an obituary! They aren’t shoveling dirt on you just yet! I always tell my clients, “Think of it as an interim report, not a final report.” In other words, this is what you have learned, this is what you have experienced, this is what you have seen, this is what you have built … up to the current moment. As more happens, we will revise accordingly or do another book down the road! So, you don’t have to worry about the fact that you still have more to create, more to offer, more to give. As I said a moment ago, I’m not presenting the stories in this book to make you jealous. I will never be in the Baseball Hall of Fame, or amass a billion-dollar art collection, or own a Major League Baseball team (like one of my clients who isn’t in this book), or lead my family to safety through the forest during the Cambodian holocaust. Instead, me sharing the purpose of the stories behind some of the books I have done is to “wake up the echoes,” as they say at Notre Dame, to get you thinking about where you find meaning in your life, and perhaps where others have found it in your life, too. Maybe it will be a business story.Maybe it will be something of a more personal nature. That is the beauty of life. We are all different, we all have a role to play, and we all contribute. So, what matters most to you? That is the real question, as opposed to asking, “Is my life more or less meaningful than the ones in this book?”

When he speaks about the six human needs, Tony Robbins points out that we all possess all six to some degree. It is just that typically two stand out for each of us. For one person, it is connection and growth. For someone else, it is variety and contribution. As you go through the stories, ask yourself which two of the six essential human needs are most meaningful to you. After each set of stories, I will share some guidance on how those books are written, and some questions for you to think about. I hope you enjoy the stories behind the books as much as I enjoyed the process of creating them. So, let’s get started.

I hope these stories about others who asked those ancient questions—who are we, what is our life, what makes us righteous, what makes us strong—whether from Chaucer or the prayer book, get you thinking about what matters most to you. First, though, I’ll tell you the story of how I got here. And when I say there was no plan, believe me!