What is the meaning of life? Since time immemorial, many brave men, philosophers or not, have attempted to unravel this eternal mystery, but alas, no definitive answer can be found.

Most of us would define “having a life” as having ambition, a goal to which we work towards in our short stay on Earth. This need not be something glamorous like being the US president – not that I think it’s an enviable job – it can be simple like seeking happiness or profound like being a monk meditating for 50 years to attain enlightenment. In a nutshell, Man’s notion of life is to have direction; people who are aimless are thus often admonished. But is our life here on Earth really that complicated? Must we have a goal in life that extends beyond mere existence?

Technically, we’re just a walking glob of cells, and cells on their own do not have any ambition in life apart from assuring its existence and replication - which probably explains our primordial instincts to fight for survival and procreate for posterity – so why must we burden ourselves unnecessarily? It’s already hard enough to eat, sleep, have sex, and then repeat the whole cycle continuously throughout our existence. Look at mosses and lichens; they stone on rocks all day. We humans think too much.

When I was young, my parents were parsimonious in their monetary handouts to me – although, I must admit this changed after primary school, but only after tough negotiations – and thus every cent meant the world to me. I would scrimp and save whatever little I got to fill my makeshift money retainer (I was too poor to afford a piggy bank or any other animal-shaped money box for that matter), which was actually a pencil case I had won in a calligraphy contest. I believe I still have it kept in my drawer somewhere – together with the money. During that financially-deficient period, I often dreamed to displace Bill Gates at the top of the Forbes money list. That was my aim in life: to be outrageously rich.

However, time changes people. Previously, when an 80-cent bowl of laksa at the Rosyth canteen was pure ecstasy for me, now, only fine dining at the most luxurious venues would provide the same sensation. Why the extravagance? Has money lost its importance to me? Maybe, or perhaps it’s the winds of time that have changed the sails on my ship of life. It’s no longer the buried treasure that captivates me, but the beautiful deserted island.

The intangibles, like happiness and contentment, had become my primary goals in life, but they were ephemeral - the pragmatist in me would not be denied. Now, money has returned to the central focus in my life, which seems a tad too materialistic. In a way it is, but I realize that it’s only by being outrageously rich can I break free from the clutches of money, be financially independent and pursue my less materialistic dreams. Of course, most people would counter this seemingly naïve notion by saying that the pursuit for material wealth is a never-ending cycle, and that I would never be truly free to pursue my dreams (non-material ones) once I enter the rat race – although I don’t have to, if you were to read “Rich Dad, Poor Dad”, but that’s another story. I guess the detractors’ point does has a ring of truth for people consumed with avarice, but I won’t know if I’m one of them till I become super rich, so I shan’t worry too much about it yet. Nevertheless, I guess it all boils down to knowing how much money is enough for you.

So there, it seems I have a clear goal in sight now, and am on my way to achieve it with my scholarship and all, but I can’t help having this nagging feeling that I’m missing out something in this big scheme of things. Is it love? I really don’t know. I guess I’ll leave that conundrum for another day; all this mental grappling is driving me cuckoo. Sigh, why can’t I be a moss?