A beginner’s guide to accepting that life has no meaning (and why that’s a good thing)

A drunk philosopher’s guide to embracing life’s absurdity: why accepting that existence has no meaning can be freeing, joyous, and occasionally involve wine and burnt toast.

I once tried to find the meaning of life at 2:47 am, sitting cross-legged on my kitchen floor with a half-empty bottle of wine and a bag of crisps that had gone stale somewhere in 2019. I thought maybe if I stared long enough at the swirling red wine in my glass, I’d see the universe reveal its secrets.

Spoiler: all I saw was my reflection, looking hungover, confused, and vaguely judging me.

And then it hit me, the hunt for meaning is overrated.

It’s not hiding in a glass of Rioja or a particularly wise tweet. Life doesn’t come with a purpose manual, a cheat code, or a neat little metaphysical blueprint. And the more I drink (and think), the more I realise: that’s exactly the point.

Letting go of the idea that life must have inherent meaning is terrifying, yes. But it’s also liberating. Suddenly, the small absurdities, the burnt toast, the missed buses, the awkward conversations, aren’t failures of existence. They’re the pointless, beautiful chaos of being alive.

So, pour yourself a drink, lean back, and let’s dive into what it means to embrace a life with no meaning… and why, strangely, that’s something worth celebrating.

The human struggle for meaning

Humans are hardwired to search for patterns, reasons, and cosmic signposts. Evolutionarily, that’s smart: spotting meaning in danger signals kept us alive. Emotionally? Not so much. We obsess over whether our work, our relationships, our Instagram posts actually matter.

Modern life amplifies this anxiety.

Social media turns our existence into a performance metric. We see curated snapshots of other people’s lives, and suddenly our messy, chaotic realities feel inadequate. And when the world feels so vast and indifferent, it’s easy to fall into despair, anxiety, or the existential dread that makes you hug your wine bottle and whisper, “Why am I even here?”

And the pressure to have a purpose, to live meaningfully, is suffocating.

Fear not though, this struggle is universal. Philosophers, poets, and drunk pub-goers have struggled with this same problem for centuries. And the truth? Life’s indifference is not a bug, it’s the feature. Accepting it is the first step toward joy.

Surviving life through the eyes of philosophy

Epicurus: Hedonism with a tipsy twist

Epicurus (341-270 BCE) is often misrepresented as “party philosopher’, think a slightly tipsy ancient Greek lounging on a sun-drenched balcony, chuckling at the spilled wine on your table. But really, he’s all about pleasure without pain.

“Pleasure,” he says, swirling his goblet, “comes not from indulgence alone, but from moderation and good company.”

In other words, pour a modest glass of red, call a mate, complain about algorithms together, and savour the moment. Spilled wine? Not tragedy … experience!

As for Epicurus, he’d sip slowly, watching the chaos of your kitchen, nodding in approval at your laughter.

• Beginner Takeaway: Happiness isn’t about grand purpose; it’s the small joys. Savor moments, even if they’re messy.

• Action Step: Tonight, pick one tiny pleasure and focus on it: a glass of wine, that one song the fills you with joy, or a perfectly toasted slice of bread (burnt? even better). Notice it fully.

Montaigne: The art of being messy

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) wrote essays about everything from cannibals to his own existential anxiety. Now, imagine him drunk in his study, shrugging at your existential panic and the absurdity of life and saying, “Why not write an essay about your mistakes?” Montaigne’s advice: embrace your contradictions, laugh at your failures, and treat life like a long, improvisational diary. Kitchen dance parties included.

• Beginner Takeaway: Life is messy. Own it, laugh at it, maybe even write about it.

• Action Step: Take 5 minutes to jot down one ridiculous thing that happened today. Bonus: include a snack or drink disaster.

Schopenhauer: Embrace the pessimism (and the whisky)

Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) believed that suffering is inevitable, but awareness gives freedom. Imagine nursing a whisky, contemplating why you stubbed your toe AGAIN, and realising that complaining is perfectly valid. Life’s pain exists, but awareness allows you to enjoy small comforts: good music, a perfect gin and tonic, or an 80s Wham! sing-along. He’d probably mutter “life’s misery is delicious” while pouring another drink.

• Beginner Takeaway: Acknowledge discomfort without letting it dominate. Awareness gives power.

• Action Step: When annoyed tomorrow, take a deep breath, sip a drink, and say: “Yes, this sucks… but I survive.”

Laozi (Lao Tzu): Go with the flow

Laozi’s Taoist philosophy is all about effortless living. Spilled wine, missed buses, algorithms trying to predict your mood? Flow past them.

Imagine him lounging in a hammock, sipping rice wine, and whispering: “The river doesn’t fight rocks; don’t fight the absurdity.” Life moves, and so should you, preferably with a cocktail in hand.

• Beginner Takeaway: Don’t fight the uncontrollable. Let life happen around you.

• Action Step: Pick one minor annoyance and consciously let it slide. Feel the absurd freedom.

Simone de Beauvoir: Freedom in choice

Beauvoir (1908-1986) emphasised freedom and responsibility, and would high-five your confused self: “No cosmic purpose? Fantastic. You get to choose.”

So, choose your joy. Choose your music. Choose ABBA over despair.

The power of choice is empowering and your rebel weapon in a meaningless universe … you decide your actions, your rituals, your absurd mini-rebellions. Pour a shot to honour the freedom you have, even if the world is indifferent.

• Beginner Takeaway: Meaning is subjective; your actions matter to you.

• Action Step: Make a small, deliberate choice that brings joy, play an 80s favourite, text a friend, or dance badly to a disco classic.

Living without meaning

Once you stop hunting for universal purpose, life turns into a playground of the absurd.

• That burnt toast this morning? Tiny tragedy, but also a chance to laugh at yourself.

• Missed the bus? Comedy gold.

• Spilled wine on your favourite T-shirt? A perfect metaphor for existence, and an excuse to pour another glass. Every mishap becomes a mini-rebellion against the universe’s indifferent rules.

Life doesn’t matter in any cosmic sense, yet your experience matters to you. So, without cosmic supervision, you can experiment, play, and even mess up spectacularly. Want to wear mismatched socks while singing Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood at 11 pm? Do it. Life is uncurated, chaotic, and deliciously yours. Joy thrives where meaning fails. Rebellion isn’t just political, it’s existential. Laugh at mistakes, hug a friend for no reason, text someone absurdly at 3 am, or as they say dance like no one is watching.

Absurdity also breeds creativity. When the pressure of ‘making it count’ disappears, suddenly burnt toast inspires poetry, spilled coffee sparks inventive rituals, and the mundane transforms into a stage for self-expression. Even routine tasks such as watering plants, commuting, or staring out the window become exercises in embracing randomness.

The key: notice your freedom and lean into it.

• Fail spectacularly

• Celebrate small victories

• Sing badly

• Cry when a song hits too hard

Allow yourself to be fully present, fully human, fully absurd. That spilled wine isn’t a catastrophe, it’s a reminder that life is alive, messy, unpredictable, and yours to taste however you want.

Life isn’t meaningless in the empty sense; it’s free to be whatever you choose. You are the arbiter of your joys, sorrows, and chaos. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

The Drunk Philosopher’s life rituals

Here’s your cheat sheet for living fully, chaotically, and beautifully, even if life has no meaning:

1. Morning Wham! Wake-Up
   Start your day with Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go (or your preferred Stock Aitken Waterman classic). Dance, stretch, and remind yourself that joy is a choice, not a metric. Bonus: down a small espresso martini if you’re feeling cheeky.

2. Existential Coffee Break
   Take a deliberate 10-minute break at work or home. Sip coffee slowly while staring out the window. Contemplate: Is that pigeon watching me? Does it matter? No. Perfect.

3. Mixtape for the Soul
   Create playlists or physical mixtapes that alternate moods: melancholy, rage, or sheer joy. Let music guide your existential reflection.

4. Mini-Ritual of Spilled Wine
   Every time you spill a drink, celebrate. Pour another. Toast the absurdity. Laugh. It’s the universe’s way of saying: you’re alive, darling.

5. Random Acts of Joy
   Dance alone in your kitchen. High-five strangers for no reason. Send a funny text at 3 am. The algorithm doesn’t see it; you do. That’s rebellion and ritual rolled into one.

6. Friday Cure
   End the week with The Cure’s Friday I’m in Love (or another exuberant anthem). Drink, sing, and release all pretence of control. Life is uncurated, messy, and yours.

7. Nighttime Reflection with Kierkegaard Gin
   Before bed, sip something alcoholic, or a calming herbal tea. Reflect on the absurdities you lived through. Smile at mistakes. Accept chaos. Prepare for another day of glorious unpredictability.

8. Monthly Existential Audit
   Once a month, review: what made you laugh? What made you cry? What songs made your soul move? Adjust rituals accordingly. Keep the absurd joy, ditch the performance metrics.

Toast the absurd

Accepting that life has no intrinsic meaning is daunting. But it is also liberating, empowering, and, yes, slightly exhilarating. Once you stop looking for a cosmic purpose, you can fully inhabit the messy, absurd, hilarious chaos of your own existence.

The burnt toast, the spilled wine, the late-night karaoke, they’re not failures. They’re evidence that you are alive, human, and gloriously unpredictable.

In a meaningless world, your freedom is the ultimate rebellion. Life is absurd. That’s its gift.

So, pour another drink, toast the chaos, revel in the absurdity, exist, and never forget: the only meaning you need is the one you pour into your own chaos.