Maybe meaning isn’t something you can hold still. Maybe it breathes somewhere in the quiet space between one heartbeat and the next, where thoughts have not yet taken shape and emotions exist only as raw colors waiting to be named.

I’ve often wondered if life truly has a red thread running through it, or if we draw one ourselves, stubbornly, just so we won’t feel lost. But then a moment arrives — a small one, almost invisible — and it lands inside me like a drop of light. A glance that stops me. A coincidence that feels too precise. A loss that shatters me open, only to let fresh air in through the cracks. And then I realize: yes, there is meaning. Sometimes dressed in silence, sometimes in chaos.

Maybe meaning is the way our steps align with the road without us noticing. When we stop pushing against what is and allow ourselves to be carried by an intuition that has never truly betrayed us. When we begin to understand that things don’t leave us, they release us. That people are not taken away from us, only placed in our story for exactly as long as their part lasts.

Sometimes I think meaning is a voice that speaks only when we hurt enough to be honest. Other times, it feels like a gentle current lifting us from beneath the surface just when we’ve decided we have no breath left. And then there are moments when I don’t think at all — I simply sense, without explanation, that I’m exactly where I need to be, even if nothing makes sense.

Maybe that’s the beauty: meaning isn’t explained, it’s lived. Like a song in a language you’ve never heard, yet somehow understand. Like a dream you forget, but it leaves a warmth in your palm, as if you had been holding someone’s hand.

There is meaning in everything — even when everything feels empty. In the gaps, in the hesitant beginnings, in slammed doors, ignored signs, and wanderings that lead you precisely to the place you needed to arrive.

Maybe meaning is not a question at all. Maybe it’s a way of walking. A way of seeing. A way of accepting that sometimes the most important transformations happen when we are doing nothing remarkable.

And maybe — just maybe — meaning is already here, breathing softly inside you, waiting only to be recognized.