Meaning of the Mundane

She sits in a tree overhanging a river. The thick branch slopes down over the water like a swing, bringing her pointed toes within grazing distance of the surface of the amber rushing stream of snow that has forgotten it should never take a tropical vacation and now pays for it with ceaseless travel. Emerald gold sunlight dapples her blotchy tan skin, drawing out the tints of red to her rich dark hair and the flashes of sapphire blue in her smoke gray eyes. She wears tank tops and denim shorts, hair pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, forever shoeless. A clunky anklet made of lapis lazuli circles her left ankle, and she sits, overlooking her kingdom of a branch and a river.

Does she have a home, a name, a family?

The answer is yes, but she never tells anyone where she lives, who her parents are and no one knows her name beyond the fact that her middle name is Maria.

Does she have dreams, hopes, fears?

Yes again, but no one knows her dreams beyond endless piles of books, her hopes beyond people seeing her tree and her river for the beauties they are, and the only fear she admits to is falling – is she referring to falling from her tree? Falling in love? Falling for something other than a stack of books and the ripples of water over stone?

No one knows.

She is the child who, if you give her a book – any kind of book, from fantasy to philosophical to science fiction – will give you the Meaning of Life as she sits in her tree above the rushing river with gold and green sunlight dripping their colors onto her and painting her, creating her. She tells you the secrets of the universe in return for printed word, guides you into the light if you hand over paper bound musings on the secrets of the mundane.

She will tell you the Meaning of Life, and so her river and tree is where people go to find a reason to continue – humans are silly in that way, she comments wryly, turning a page as the fire of the sunset drapes her with a haze of orange light. They are forever running around looking for Meaning while she is looking for meaning, looking for facts and figures and tiny little things that only she can care about.

Meaning, she'll tell you in the moments where she is inclined towards brutal honesty, is something we create for ourselves, built on the basis of unshakeable beliefs and long treasured ideals. She confirms these ideals because at the end of the day, everyone's meaning is constructed of the meanings they'd already known but the real Meaning is one that would break most everyone if she dared speak it aloud, so she stays silent.

The Meaning she gives to everyone is different, unique, constructed out of two minutes of observation of ideals – she confirms what they already believe and says she's just waiting for the right person, one whose worldview won't shatter when she tells the Truth when she gives them the real Meaning. Her Meanings for those that seek her are fortune cookie snippets that her worshippers treasure anyway.

Fall in love with everyone and anything –  when your heart is truly overflowing with love and you feel compassion for your fellow man, you are Enlightened.

Surround yourself with wealth; if you have everything your heart desires then you have achieved true happiness.

Renounce your wordly goods; all that matter is the praise of the Holy.

There is no Meaning, no grand scheme – this is all there is, so you'd better enjoy it, kiddo.

She says she's telling the truth to everyone, that all of those can construct the real Meaning of Life, and maybe they do but she also says that the real Meaning of Life will break anyone who isn't sufficiently prepared to hear it.

You can find her by turning right when you pass the shoe store with the funky, sun faded poster of a kitten staring questioningly at a pair of sandals and walking three blocks pass tidy, brightly colored houses with tiny, faded lawns. Turn left at the end of the street and reach the dense forest of pine and ponderosa trees  - she'll encourage you to plant one; she likes how they emit the smell of butterscotch. There's a well worn path lined with sharp-edged chunks of black veined marble; follow that for a mile or so until you hear the rushing of the forest rising up to meet you – the wind in the leaves, the rush of water, the crunching of twigs.

The forest is greeting you.

She'll be sitting in a tree overhanging a river. The thick branch slopes down like a swing, bringing her pointed toes within grazing distance of the surface of the freezing  water, distorted by the peaks of pointed rocks breaking the smooth surface. Emerald gold sunlight will dapple her  tan skin, drawing out the tints of scarlet and chestnut to her thick dark hair and it will highlight the flashes of sapphire blue in her smoke gray eyes. She'll be wearing a tank top and denim shorts, hair pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, her feet bare. A clunky anklet made of lapis lazuli will circle her left ankle, and she'll be sitting, waiting for you, looking at you with eyes made of ephemeral dreams and English fog over the Channel in the cool gray dawn before the chaos of life rattles, chokes and then starts going full fury.

Approach her with respectful quiet – not for her, but for the beauty of her forest and her river; she doesn't mind if someone disrespects her as long as they know how privileged they are to be in such a gorgeous area. Hold out your offering of a book in front of you and give her a moment to examine the title and try to not shiver as she eyes you, to make sure she is accepting of your presence in the quiet calm of her kingdom. She'll examine your ideals, your history as it is written upon your face, your hands, your clothes. Don't let her give you one of her fortune cookie meanings; you came here for More Than That.

Tell her that, and she'll laugh a little bit skeptically, ask you if you're sure, if you really do want your illusion of the world shattered and broken. Confirm it, and she'll shake her head, wonder out loud if you're crazy.

The Meaning, she'll say, consists of three parts.

One is make yourself happy. Enjoy life and do what you love because she's no expert on the state of the afterlife but this world is pretty damned good so you might as well enjoy it while you're in it.

The second is that it is better to live in pain for the benefit of others rather than destroy lives and attain true happiness. At least that way you'll be remembered as compassionate, and history'll judge you kindly.

The third is that people are fragile, malleable things, easily broken and easily scarred, with illusions of the world they'll kill to keep in place and lives they'll destroy to stay ahead. Love many, trust few.

She'll wait for this to sink in. Her attention will most likely drift; she'll flip through a couple of books while you process what she has said. You might be dazed and a little shaky as you get to your feet and turn to leave the golden green dappled forest with the babbling of her river.

She'll tell you to wait.

Turn around; she'll look mildly concerned, lines bunching between her eyebrows. She'll tell you nothing is forever. Nod and take that piece of advice and leave her to her fortress of books – as you walk away, you'll realize she follows all those parts. She makes herself happy with the books, harms no one by confirming their treasured beliefs and trusts no one – she stays in the forest and allows you here for a short time before banishing you forever.

Now, walk away.

Eventually, you'll forget what she told you. The Meaning is fairly standard stuff, which is why it's so hard to handle. You'll forget, and do things that don't make you happy, hurt others for the happiness of yourself, and then be surprised when those you trust betray you. You'll forget the girl on the branch above the river who you paid in books for the Truth, the girl with eyes as gray as a stormy sky and a smile as bitter and fragile as breaking ice.

Life will go on, it really will. You'll keep searching for the Meaning, even though she already told it to you. She'll sit on the branch over the river with her books and you'll keep on looking for something you will never find.

Maybe that's the Meaning; the blatant rejection of the Truth. You'll never find her again to confirm this; you are allowed into her forest once and never again.

Try not to forget, as you walk away, that the Meaning of Life consists of three parts.

One is make yourself happy. Enjoy life and do what you love because this world is pretty damned good so you might as well enjoy it while you're in it.

The second is that it is better to live in pain for the benefit of others rather than destroy lives and attain true happiness.

The third is that people are fragile, malleable things, easily broken and easily scarred, with illusions of the world they'll kill to keep in place and lives they'll destroy to stay ahead. Love many, trust few.

This is what you need to remember, but you won't most likely. There is a chance you will, however, and that you'll remember the girl with the gray eyes and the bitter smile.

At least remember her.