“Existentialism is dark. Those people are fixated on death.”

That’s how I used to think of existentialism.

For the longest time I was never sure what existentialism was. I asked people in high school, but I could never get a straight answer. People either loved it or hated it, but no one could really explain it to me.

When I was first introduced to it, it was a style of writing. Some lady, doesn’t like her marriage, feels like she can never really find love, and drowns herself in the ocean. It didn’t seem that much different than other books, except without any dramatic tension leading up to her death and no follow up describing her family’s grieving. She just walks out into the water and the book ends.

Then I took a Philosophy course and had existentialism explained to me a bit more. It’s a way of thinking – of looking at the world and understanding it. It claims that any meaning in life is created by the individual. There is no purpose inherent in existence. People may go around injecting the artificial purpose and direction, but in reality we’re all just biding time until we die. That’s how I understood existentialism for the next few years. It seemed empty and dark. I didn’t like it.

We covered existentialism in my Psychology of Personality class last week, and I’ll be darned if BYU didn’t take something the world had colored black for me and highlight it’s bright, pretty parts. Yes, existence has no inherent meaning in existentialism, but the focus isn’t on keeping ourselves grounded to the fact that life is useless. The focus is on finding things to give us purpose. It’s about existing – really living life. It’s about making use of our lives, because one day we’re going to die and it’ll all be over. It’s about developing real connections with people around us even if they’re going to move away in a few months or get off the elevator on the next floor. That’s the kind of existentialism I can swallow.

I could still have this thing all wrong. I don’t know. Maybe Jon Howard will set me straight. Regardless, the last few days I’ve been jazzed about existing. I’m trying to real listen to what people are saying to me, and really open up when I talk to them.

Half the Ward is moving out before the week is over, but why should that stop me from cherishing the time I have left with them.

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