We ask: "Is life meaningful, worthwhile, valuable?" Often, we are tempted to agree with Shakespeare who says in Macbeth: Life is "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." But can we apply this value judgement to Life? The only alternative to life is "death," and we then have to weigh the worth of living against the worth of dying. Mr. Judge says, "Life is better than death, for death again disappoints the Self." (Letters That Have Helped Me, American ed., p. 34)

Some of us have hurriedly concluded that there is no meaning to life. To some, life is a repetitious, cyclic activity, which never comes to anything. We set for ourselves short-term goals. So long as we have some goal, we feel our life is meaningful. But almost all our goals are transitory. We realize one goal and then we are after another. We must realize that the quest for life's meaning is a spiritual quest, which each one has to undertake. There is no simple answer to the question: What is the meaning of life? Every life is meaningful, provided we change our attitude towards what life brings to us. Life of a teacher, a businessman or a sweeper could be meaningful provided each lives his life with the aim of self-actualization and self-transcendence.

Hence the importance of understanding life as a drama, a school and pilgrimage—and man as an actor, a pupil and a pilgrim. But which "man"? It is the "Individuality," the Ego, who is the actor, experiencer and also an Eternal Pilgrim. It is this Ego or actor who chooses the "stage" for performing the drama, before taking birth, i.e., life's circumstances, the role he is going to play as well as the co-actors. In other words, it is the Ego who chooses the family, the parents, the personality and the circumstances of life in which to be born. The word "personality" is derived from "persona," meaning mask, the actor remained hidden and anonymous. These different roles done by the actor are our personalities. Just as, while an actor performs the role of Hamlet, he is not fully conscious of the fact that in real life he is So-and-so, similarly, we are so absorbed in playing the role that we are seldom aware of our true Self.

In a given life we might be playing the role of mother, father, brother, daughter, clerk, officer, business magnate or sweeper. We must try to give the best performance, no matter how insignificant the role. Sometimes in a drama, we see that the performance of a supporting actor or actress is praised more than that of a hero or a heroine—an apparently insignificant role gains prominence. Our attitude towards the role and the work involved in playing our part must be such that people should want to emulate. Whenever we feel dissatisfied with our role or place in life, and long to play the lead role, we must remember this incident from the book, A 3rd serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul, by Jack Canfield and Mark Hansen. It is about a little boy, Jamie, who had his heart set on taking part in a school play. His mother feared that he would not be chosen. On the day of the selections, the mother went to collect him from school, full of apprehension. When she reached there, little Jamie rushed up to her with his eyes shining with pride and excitement and said, "Guess what, Mum, I have been chosen to clap and cheer!" In a way there are no insignificant roles. It is our attitude which makes them so.

Success of the drama is dependent on each actor performing his or her role well. So also in the drama of life we are dependent on other actors performing their duty properly. An incident in history shows that when a battle was lost, an inquiry was set up to find out the cause. The inquiry revealed that the battle was lost because the soldiers were discouraged, as the horse slipped, killing the General of the Army. But why did the horse slip? Because the horseshoe came off, and that in turn was because the blacksmith had not nailed it properly. So the saying goes that "the battle was lost for want of the horseshoe nail." Hence the importance of careful and cheerful performance of one's Dharma or duty in life. We know that a city is thrown into utter chaos when the garbage collectors or chemists or motormen go on strike.

We are assured that we will get the chance to play different roles—lead roles, insignificant ones as also the villainous roles. Light on the Path suggests:

And before you can attain knowledge you must have passed through all places, foul and clean alike. Therefore, remember that the soiled garment you shrink from touching may have been yours yesterday, may be yours tomorrow. And if you turn with horror from it, when it is flung upon your shoulders, it will cling the more closely to you. (pp. 16-17)

Life is also a school. There are certain archetypal experiences, like motherhood, poverty, etc., which each ego has to experience, in one life or the other. We are bound to come across those who play their roles so admirably that we are inspired. Perhaps the greatest thing we can learn from the school of life is the spirit of giving without expecting any return. One of the lessons we must learn in life is the "art of caring." We hurry, rush and run, to save time. What do we do with the time we save? We are always too busy to care for others. A smile, a kind word, a friendly gesture—just a little caring—can work wonders in some person's life and he may be inspired to pass on the same warmth and care to others.

The process of learning is a never-ending process. In the school of life, too, we get all kinds of students. Some keep failing. Some fail and give up, while others fail but ever keep trying. As Mr. Crosbie says, "It may be a child's school, but it takes a man to go through it" (The Friendly Philosopher," p. 11). Some are fast learners, who get double-promotion. They are great beings like Plato, Buddha, and Shankara, who graduated from the school of life ahead of their batch-mates. Buddha and Shankara have been described as Sixth Rounders and Plato as a Fifth Rounder. Even in the Fourth Round they possessed knowledge, which average humanity will acquire in the Fifth or Sixth Round. As Mr. Judge writes: "You may go through the appointed course in 700 births, in seven years, or in seven minutes." (Letters That Have Helped Me, American ed., p. 21)

For most of us, the process of learning is slow. We realize that one life is not sufficient. Our present life is only a scene in the great drama, which stretches over several lives. Hence, life is compared to a pilgrimage and man is called an Eternal Pilgrim. Mr. Judge writes:

In the East the life of man is held to be a pilgrimage, not only from the cradle to the grave, but also through the vast period of time, embracing millions upon millions of years, stretching from the beginning to the end of a Manvantara, or period of evolution, and as he is held to be a spiritual being, the continuity of his existence is unbroken....Starting from the great All, radiating like a spark from the central fire, he gathers experience in all ages...ever engaged in a pilgrimage to the shrine from which he came. He is now the ruler and now the slave; today at the pinnacle of wealth and power, tomorrow, at the bottom of the ladder...but ever the same being. (Echoes from the Orient, XIII)

Like a bee gathering honey from the flower, the Eternal Pilgrim gathers experience from every life. Besides being a teacher, a mother, or a scientist, each of us is a pilgrim-soul on a pilgrimage. Man is a pilgrim as well as a wanderer. As wanderers, we drift through life, puzzled with many experiences; we try to dodge the karmic consequences by ceremonies and rituals. As soon as we become aware of the purpose of life—that life is for the evolution and emancipation of the Soul—we begin to take that evolution into our own hands.

We are not alone on this pilgrimage. No one can lift us out of the mire and put us into shine. However, we are helped by spiritual beings and by our own higher nature. We have to reach the "destination" in the company of other pilgrims and not by isolating ourselves. A religious man often refrains from giving or taking help, in order to avoid karmic bondage. Such people avoid entering into kindly relationship with other beings. The Gita advises that besides doing our duty, we must never abandon acts of Charity, Mortification and Sacrifice. Interdependence is an imprtant aspect of spiritual progress, as Mr. Judge describes so beautifully in Letters That Have Helped Me, Book 1, Letter 1:

The reason you have had help is that in other lives you gave it to others. In every effort you made to lighten another mind and open it to Truth, you were helped yourself. Those pearls you found for another and gave to him, you really retained for yourself in the act of benevolence. For when one lives thus to help others, he is thereby putting in practice the rule to try and "kill out all sense of separateness," and thus gets little by little in possession of true light.

Yoga is not a physical, mental or psychic feat. It is life itself; not the kind of restless life swinging constantly between the two extremes of exhilaration and depression, indulgence and denial, sensuousness and asceticism, but the harmonious flow of the divine will along the wise middle path...On both sides of this subtle middle path there is danger, pain and suffering. Both extremes imply a strong identification of the body, mind and the personal ego with the self....The man who loves eating is a glutton; but the man who refuses to eat is an egoist. The former identifies the self (atma) with the body; the latter, with the vain ability to go without food. Both of them are confusing the body, mind and ego from the real self, while allowing God's nature to reveal itself through all these. In gluttony there is pain, as also in abstention. Pleasure is invariably followed by pain. Vanity is accompanied by fear or injured pride. The yogi who pursues the middle path is blissfully free from all these. Only he lives; others drag on in miserable existence.

—Swami Venkatesananda