In my clinical work, it is not uncommon for people to say that they just can’t see the point of anything anymore. Some people even tell me that they don’t see any point in living. These people are usually distressed, despondent, and depressed. They are clearly not satisfied with their “lot” and often find it hard to convince themselves to do everyday tasks such as getting out of bed.

It’s a funny thing about the point. It seems to be the case that we rarely think about the point except in those situations when we question if there is one. Most people, mostly, just meander through their days, months, and years, getting on with the business of living by making their lives be the way they want them to be.

Is there a point? What is the point of saying “Good morning”? What is the point of a butterfly bursting from its constricting cocoon and fluttering off to find a flower? What is the point of going to school, of turning up to work on time, of going on holidays, of being kind, of asking for skim instead of full cream milk, of riding a horse along a deserted beach, of hitting the ball into that place where your opponent cannot reach it?

The puzzling thing about the point is that nothing has a point and everything has a point.

Ironically, at the same time that there is no point, there is also a myriad of points. Life, in fact, is a universe of points. Some points help other points be realized through a hierarchical arrangement. Pairs of points can be configured oppositionally, preventing each other from having any effect and establishing a sense of pointlessness.

We have no objective, irrefutable, immutable point that drives us all except, perhaps, the point of keeping our worlds in the states we are satisfied with. Anything that lives, in order to continue living, must do this, although they don’t really “do this” in the same way that Uncle Hank might “do” a clean-out of the basement. The business of keeping experiences constant in the context of changing environments is a process of control. There is no creature that is separate from the process that does the controlling. The creature itself is a control process. The unicellular Acetabularia is a control process and every multicellular life-form is too.

So the point is control, and the point of control is to continue controlling by keeping any difference between the standard and the experience as small as can be.

If making lots of money has a point to you then you’ll follow that point. If there’s a point to you in growing Brassavola orchids then there’s a point. For different people at different times there’s a point to: putting your name down on the roster to help out with school lunches; or making the world a better place; or restoring your 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air; or tatting a lace handkerchief edge to enter in the local show; or getting all your weekly spelling words correct.

Points are highly individualized. You can’t give a point to another person or tell them what their point should be, but sometimes, people can establish points based on what they’ve learned from others. And there is no inherent pointness in any thing or activity. The point exists in the mind of the controller. It is the restorer who creates and experiences the point, not the 1957 Chevy.

For some people there is even a point to not having a point.

Those people who are not bothered by the point of it all will just keep on keeping on, controlling whatever is in their mind to control. Some people, however, occasionally lose sight of their point, or forget what it was, or wonder if they ever had one anyway. When that happens, listen to the chatter of your mind. It is likely that, rather than there being no point, your points are at war with each other. Perhaps you see a point in living a life of your own design and also a point in gaining approval from others. At times, these points will pull you in different directions, leaving you feeling stretched, or stuck, or defeated.

Sometimes, when points are incompatible, and neither can be achieved, it can seem like the points are gone. The therapy I use and the app I have developed (MindSurf) help people reorganize their points by listening to the struggle and searching for where it is coming from. After all, if there wasn’t a point, there wouldn’t be a struggle.

Getting on with the pursuit of points in ways that do not prevent others from doing the same thing is likely to be one of the keys to contented and satisfying living. The more aware we are of the important things in our lives, the less we will question what the point of it all is, and the more meaningful our living and our relationships with others will be.

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