A few weeks ago, I went to a veteran’s rucking event. As it turned out, it wasn’t a rucking event; it was a walking event, and those who chose to could carry a ruck or wear a vest.
I had a good time, and I enjoyed myself. I got to meet some people I otherwise wouldn’t have met. Of each veteran I spoke with, I asked the same question, “Why are you here?” Some were there for the camaraderie, some for the exercise, but as I expected, some were there because their time in the military was the last time they felt a sense of meaning.
Meaning is one of the Lines of Effort (LOEs) I’ve mentioned before. I had previously named this LOE, Purpose, but after reading an article by Frank Martela and Michael Steger in the Journal of Positive Psychology (Yes, I do read things other than field manuals) titled: The three meanings of meaning in life: Distinguishing coherence, purpose, and significance, I realized that I like their distinctions.
As the title implies, they posit that meaning has three components:
Coherence: The idea that events in life happen for a reason. (Without this, life seems random and we are powerless.)
Purpose: The belief that you are alive to do something. (Strategic Aim)
Significance: That your life has value to yourself and others. (That the fight is important, and you are the only one who can fight it.)
While in the military, you could be forgiven for questioning Coherence. But there was never a doubt about Purpose and Significance.
That disappears the moment you take off the uniform.
There are three ways to deal with this loss of meaning.
- Give up. Take the way out that 22 veterans opt for each day. This is cowardly.
- Build an identity around the fact that you once had a life of meaning. Become what I call a professional veteran.
- Make meaning. Assign yourself a mission that builds on the intangible traits you developed in uniform, makes you a better person, and helps improve your home, neighborhood, community, country, or the world.
My problem with the professional veteran is not the Grunt Style t-shirts, the stickers on their pickup, or the stories they tell; it is that they are trying to drive a car by looking in the rear-view mirror.
You can’t move forward while looking to and living in the past, and the harder you try, the more off course you'll get. This reminds me of why I get sad listening to Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days.
Unlike in the military, meaning isn’t often given. It can be searched for and found. Or it can be made.
This, of course, is easy to say but not as easy to accomplish. Because life in the military provides more than meaning, it provides a mission, a tribe, a battle rhythm, three hots and a cot, and a belief system.
Retirement or the end of service strips these things away and forces us to confront, maybe for the first time, the real-life questions of “Who am I?”, “What do I believe?”, “What do I stand for and against?”, and “What will my life be about?”
These aren’t easy questions to answer. Plato called man “a being in search of meaning.”
One interesting finding in the journal article is that Martela and Steger found no difference between having meaning and seeking it.
The good news is that this means we don’t have to have it all figured out.
We just have to keep looking.
“One can look deeply for meaning, or one can invent it.” — Anne Michaels
Until next week, Charlie Mike!
John
- Your arms dealer for the war of life
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