The Search For Meaning In Life

I've been reflecting on one question all week: How do you find real meaning in your life?

I've created a series exploring this on my YouTube channel over the past seven days.

These are the biggest insights so far.

PART 1: THE RECOGNITION

The Question That Won't Leave Me Alone

I've spent my entire life chasing something.

Running faster. Winning more. Proving myself. Always moving toward the next goal, the next achievement, the next version of myself that would finally feel like enough.

But recently, something shifted. I saw through those games. I realised I was performing, not living. Chasing validation, not meaning.

So I stopped.

And now I'm stuck in a different kind of problem: I don't know what to do instead.

The world makes it incredibly easy to avoid these bigger questions. I can scroll social media for hours, stay busy with dopamine hits, without ever pausing to reflect on what's actually important. We can play life almost entirely in one-player mode, and before we know it, years have passed and we haven't really connected with anything.

One-Player Games and Their Limits

I've spent a lot of my life playing one-player games.

Running was solo training sessions on empty tracks. Poker was grinding alone for hours. Even coaching operates through my own channels, my own programs. I'm still fundamentally alone in how I've structured it.

And now, as AI continues to advance, I find myself asking: In three to five years, anything you can do alone, AI will probably do better. So what's left? What's meaningful when the one-player games become obsolete?

The Mind's Trap

When I try to solve this question, my default mode is to think my way through it. Logic, planning, cognitive reasoning. But the more I try to satisfy the mind with mental gymnastics and clever frameworks, the more unfulfilling it feels.

Here's what I've noticed: the mind acts like an overprotective parent. It creates a box you can live in. It tells you what to avoid, what feelings not to feel, all in an attempt to keep you safe. But over time, it doesn't just protect you from genuine threats. It starts to shut you off from feeling anything at all.

What gets lost is that deep, internal knowing. That connection to what feels right, what you should actually be doing with your life.

You can't find meaning with the mind. There's no to-do list that will deliver it. No amount of strategic thinking that suddenly makes everything click into place. Meaning has to come from something deeper than thought.

The mind tricks us into believing "this pursuit will lead to this feeling." For me, it was poker. If I reach the highest stakes, earn enough money, create freedom — 100% happiness guaranteed.

I got there and I was like, where's the happiness? The fulfilment wasn't there.

I've stepped off the treadmill. The mind's treadmill of "do this," always being busy on the pursuit of something. And I'm in the void.

PART 2: THE PATTERN

My Story: The Self-Worth Trap

For as long as I can remember, I've been searching for some kind of proof that I was worthy. I kept changing the object of my self-worth, but the underlying feeling never really changed.

Running: Chasing Worth Through Achievement

I grew up in a family of runners. Running wasn't just a sport — it was the currency of recognition in my house. From age 11, I trained four times a week, tying my identity to my results.

Every race felt like a test, not just of my fitness, but of my worth.

My siblings made it look easy. My sister dominated for over a decade. My brother won effortlessly. And then there was me. Fighting, grinding, pushing myself to the limit — only to fall short time and time again.

I sacrificed parties, socialising, teenage experiences. All hoping that one day, I would finally be enough. But even when I had glimpses of success, the feeling never lasted.

At some point, I realised I would never become the runner I had dreamed of being. But instead of questioning why I felt the need to prove myself in the first place, I just looked for a new way to do it.

Social Validation: Trying to Fit In

At 18, I moved to university. I transitioned from tying my self-worth to achievement to tying it to social validation. Running took a backseat to partying three to four nights a week.

Now, instead of obsessing over race times, I obsessed over social status. Did people like me? Was I funny enough? The stakes felt just as high.

The hangovers were brutal. The anxiety worse. And after university, when the party lifestyle faded, I was left with the same question: What makes me enough?

Poker: The New Scoreboard

After university, poker became my life. I found a new way to prove myself. Ten-hour grinding days became my norm. I wasn't just playing for money — I was playing for validation.

After five years, I finally 'arrived.' I had battled the best, reached the peak of my format. The players that once intimidated me now avoided me.

This was it. The moment I had worked for.

And yet, when I got there, I felt nothing. No moment of arrival. Just the same feelings of lack, waiting for me at the top.

Coaching: Proving My Worth Through Helping Others

At first, coaching felt different. It wasn't about winning or money — it was about helping people.

Yet soon, the pattern repeated itself. Now my self-worth was about how much value I could provide to others. I had to be the smartest. The one with all the answers.

I wasn't free. I had just changed the rules of the same game.

This is the Self-Worth Trap. It had never been about running, poker, or coaching. The real trap was believing I had to chase something at all.

At a recent ten-day silent retreat, I was forced to ask: "What if the problem was never the things I was chasing? What if the problem was the belief that I had to chase at all?"

Maybe, just maybe, my self-worth was never something I can to earn.

PART 3: THE TRANSITION

Life Stages: From Width to Depth

When I think back to childhood, everything felt wide open. Unlimited possibilities. I thought I'd be a football player, run in the Olympics. Big dreams.

Around 23 or 24, society says: "Pick your path. Stop being a kid. Pick one thing, get good at it." Most people narrow it down quickly — career, city, partner, family.

I subconsciously fought against that. I became a poker player, moved to Thailand, then Bali. I kept things open throughout my 20s.

I'm 37 now. And I'm becoming aware that I can't do everything anymore. The openness where anything's possible is fading.

To replace the excitement of unlimited possibilities, something needs to fill that space: depth has to replace width.

When I observe people finding meaning and living happy lives, it's about full commitment. They have fewer options, but they're getting deep into those avenues. Relationships, family, careers.

That's where the richness is. The richness is in depth.

But I'm scared to have my life come down to this. I like holding on to the dream that anything can still happen.

The Fear Underneath It All

Fear is like a hidden brake on your car. You press the accelerator, trying to move forward, but something's slowing you down.

For me, it's the fear of not being enough.

Here's what it looks like: I want to put out videos, share my ideas, be vulnerable. But the fear whispers: "Now's not a good time. Wait until you have more energy, a better plan."

Sounds reasonable. But in reality? It's just fear. Fear of messing up. Fear of being judged.

My mind has created two paths: the good path where everything works out, and the bad path where I feel bad about myself. And rather than risk the bad path, I just... don't move.

I wait. I plan. I rationalise. And nothing happens.

Here's what I know: Ten years from now, I'm not going to regret the things I tried and failed at. I'm going to regret the things I didn't do out of fear.

To create more meaning in my life, I need to actively step into the fear of not being enough, and not let it stop me from moving forward.

PART 4: THE VOID

Performance vs. Participation

I know the answer is supposed to be participation instead of performance. Engaging fully with life, not just watching from the sidelines.

But here's the problem: I don't feel the aliveness that tells me what's worth engaging with.

I feel flat. Disconnected. Unsure.

The old pursuits had clarity, even if they were wrong. When grinding poker, I knew what success looked like. When coaching, I knew what mattered.

But here's what I miss: I felt alive in those games. Even though they were ultimately empty, at least I felt something.

Now I'm supposed to find something worth participating in "just because I'm alive." But I don't feel that pull.

I've stopped performing, but I haven't started participating. I'm the observer, not the player. I'm in the stands, not the arena.

Future You vs. Present You

I've spent most of my life chasing a version of myself that doesn't exist yet. Future me will be better. Future me will have it figured out.

But what about right now?

Here's what I'm starting to see: the current me is never enough. I create a new identity that promises something better, then use that vision to get current me to sacrifice, to work hard, to push through.

It works. I've closed gaps. I've hit milestones.

But the moment I arrive? I internalise it as the new me. And immediately start creating the next version to chase. The cycle repeats.

I've been offsetting negative feelings in the moment by projecting into the future. Money problems? Future me will be rich. Insecurity about my purpose? Future me will have it solved.

It's a trick. A way to avoid sitting with what's uncomfortable today.

The Question I’m Pondering

This is where the week has brought me:

Do I wait for aliveness to show me what's worth participating in? Or do I participate in something, anything, and trust that aliveness will emerge through the participation itself?

Do I need to feel the pull before I move? Or do I need to move before I can feel the pull?

Maybe the aliveness doesn't come back on its own. Maybe you don't get to feel certain before you step forward. Maybe participation requires moving without the feeling, trusting that the aliveness shows up in the doing, not before it.

Or maybe I'm just supposed to be still. To sit in this flatness without trying to escape it.

I don't know yet.

PART 5: WHAT I'VE LEARNED SO FAR

What I do know is this: I can't go back to performing. I've seen through those games too clearly.

But I also can't stay here forever, waiting.

At some point, I'm going to have to take a step. Even if I don't know where it's going. Even if I don't feel the aliveness yet.

Because maybe that's what participation actually is. Not waiting until you're certain. But moving anyway. Engaging anyway. Showing up anyway.

Looking back, the times life felt most meaningful weren't when I was thinking the most. They were when I was fully in the moment. In my early twenties playing poker, I wasn't consumed with grand plans. I was just present. Every day felt immediate and alive.

I didn't have it all figured out. I was just connected to the work, to the people around me, to the feeling of being alive in each moment. And that connection made everything feel meaningful.

That's what I've been missing lately. Being in my body, in the present, responding to what's actually in front of me rather than living in my head.

The Invitation

That's where I am right now. Standing at the edge between performance and participation. Between the old games I've outgrown and the new story I haven't found yet.

I feel like the hero who lost their quest. I didn't fail. I just realised the old quests were all performance. And I haven't found what's worth participating in yet.

If you're reading this and finding yourself in a similar place:

What's stopping you from being happy right now?

Where are you struggling to find meaning?

How do you participate in life when you don't feel motivated?

Because I don't think any of us are meant to figure this out alone. And maybe that's part of the answer right there.

I'm still figuring that out. But I know one thing: I'm going to keep taking steps, even when I don't feel certain. I'm going to keep showing up, even when I don't feel the aliveness yet.

Because the richness of meaning and purpose is easily held back by fear. Easily diminished by not taking risks. Easily lost to the comfort of staying small.

I know which path I want to take.

Even if it scares me.

P.S. I’ll be back next week with more insights as I explore this topic further.

Adam