Having a sense of purpose and meaning in life ranks high in the cluster of the commonplaces of happiness. No matter where we are on the economic chart, it’s knowing what we exist for that counts. No matter how mundane our gifts may seem to be, even to ourselves, the world will be the poorer without them, and we will be poorer, too, for not having given them as best we can. My life has meaning to every life I touch. It’s knowing that and living accordingly that counts.

Clearly, the key question of life is a simple one: If I really want to be happy, what am I part of that is larger than myself? What can I give to this world, this project, this question, this problem that will be meaningful to others? Where does the world I’m in right now need me? Then, when I know that I am about something bigger than myself, money and status and personal ambition all pale in the face of it—and in the morning, I wake up happy. I wake up knowing that I have done what I am here to do. I know, too, what to do with myself, my gifts, my life.

Clearly, life does not give us meaning. Life has only the meaning we give it. Without a reason larger than myself for which to get out of bed in the morning, I am losing my life one day at a time, like water drops in an ocean, without so much as a ripple to show for it.

As the Chinese proverb put it:

If you want happiness for an hour—take a nap.
If you want happiness for a day—go fishing.
If you want happiness for a year—inherit a fortune.
If you want happiness for a lifetime—help someone else.

—from Happiness by Joan Chittister (Eerdmans)