I grew up on a dairy farm in the south of England, where I was the youngest of three brothers and a sister. When it comes to a lifetime of hard graft, caring for seventy opinionated Friesian cows, named after the village ladies, is right up there. It was all hands on deck, particularly at haymaking and harvest time. There's much talk today about what constitutes a good life, how to live a good life, and how to achieve the elusive healthy balance in hectic lives. I realize, looking back, that despite the hard work, ours was a good life. We even felt sad for people not fortunate enough to have a farm. Why is that?

Humankind's search for meaning and purpose in life is an ongoing quest. It's central to our efforts to understand the unfathomable, the inherent mystery of our very existence. Here we are in a human form we have no recollection of choosing, and now what? How did we get here? Why are we here? What's the point of it all?

My father was the architect of a good life because he understood how life works. He knew that everything was connected to everything else. The well-being of our animals and the land was integral to our well-being and the well-being of the folks in London who received fresh milk every day that tasted of sunshine and clover.

The search for meaning and purpose is a theme writers have explored from the first rays of consciousness to the present. Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis is a brilliant example. Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning to find that he is transformed into a giant insect. There are many interpretations of Kafka's symbolism. My favorite is that the insect represents Gregor's deprived existence as a man whose days are consumed by providing for his family and paying off his father's debts, working in the functionalistic role of a traveling salesman that he finds utterly soul-destroying.

A famous French epitaph brilliantly encapsulates Gregor's fate and the fate of all of us trapped in dead-end existences in a simple phrase, "Né homme - mort épicier." Here lies who, born a man, a grocer died. There's no shame in being a grocer; grocers play a vital role in society. The pathos comes from the bone-chillingly claustrophobic concept that the grandeur and mystery of life can be whittled down to a lifetime spent selling butter and carving ham.  

Of course, the drive for physical survival is a vital component of our human story. It's hard to think about anything else when hungry, and for centuries, many have lived lives of subsistence in an unequal world, and many still do.

While much of the world has thankfully moved beyond this hand-to-mouth existence, living today in an economic system that runs on growth and consumerism, it's easy to find ourselves trapped in a different way. The mundane and the purely practical became the totality, as seen with the grocer. We have gone to such lengths to provide for our basic needs that rather than explore a deeper purpose and meaning to life; we get all balled up in respectability and security, the glue traps that keep us small and stuck with no room for creativity and spiritual growth. Glorifying the material closes our eyes to what truly matters, and we mistake being "proper" for living a good life. 

So far, we have taken glorification of the material, and although many still pursue money and glamor, many young people entering the workplace today want more from life than consumption. There is a significant evolution taking place. Lower-level positions with less stress, responsibility, and fewer hours are chosen over money and status. Big ticket items like cars and houses that require demanding jobs to sustain, once considered essential status items, are being swapped for life experiences, free time, and quality of life. Professions in environments that provide service to others and the planet, like health, the environment, and human rights, are being followed.

It's always possible to spot people living with a higher purpose. They radiate a special light no matter how mundane the task might seem. They don't draw attention to themselves; they just quietly go about their lives, illuminating the way forward. Their path is paved with purpose—purpose rooted in selflessness, with the surety that something bigger than themselves matters more than the individual.

Each one of us is an artist. We all can choose to lead a purposeful life, no matter our circumstances. It may not always feel this way, but it's essential to acknowledge that the gift of human life is extraordinary. We are the only species bestowed with the free will necessary to make purposeful choices. No matter what you're doing, show up fully and be present. It's a gift to others, reduces stress, and makes you more effective. Appreciate the beauty in some unexpected places, like an elder's smile in a nursing home when a therapy dog is placed in her arms. As I mentioned last month, take pleasure in simple things as my father would teach us. Choose kindness over needing to be right. Being kind has a ripple effect that extends well beyond you and will always come back to you one way or another. Understand the connectivity of all things—everything we do matters. Nothing is inconsequential, and the choices made make the difference between a well-lived life and a life endured.