A Private Journal Note on Meaning, Effort, and Non-Linear Progress. Draft 2.0

I’m learning that difficult ideas make sense to me only when they are grounded in lived experience.

 Philosophy becomes real not when it explains life, but when it helps me inhabit it more consciously.

Over the last few days, a philosophical idea has been sitting with me — the distinction between pessimism, optimism, and nihilism. I didn’t grasp it at first. The words made sense intellectually, but not experientially. As is often the case for me, clarity came only when I placed the idea on familiar terrain.

That terrain has been my rehab journey.

Nihilism — A Simple 101

Nihilism is the quiet belief that nothing ultimately matters.

Not necessarily in a dramatic or depressed way, but in a subtle way where effort feels optional and the question “why?” slowly disappears. A person can function, succeed, and even feel happy — while being disengaged from deeper meaning.

A helpful contrast I’m learning to hold:

Pessimism says: “This is hard, and I see the despair.”

Optimism says: “It will all work out.”

Nihilism says: “Why bother asking why?”

I didn’t truly understand this distinction until I placed it on the terrain of recovery — where effort is required daily, and outcomes are never guaranteed.

Rehab as Lived Terrain

Since my brain surgery in July 2024, I’ve been in continuous rehabilitation. The first several months brought visible progress in regaining mobility. I carried that momentum into 2025 with the same discipline and intent.

And then an important reality became undeniable: progress is not linear.

There are advances, plateaus, regressions, and surprises — sometimes all in the same week. In those moments, nihilism doesn’t show up loudly. It shows up quietly, as disengagement: if progress isn’t guaranteed, what’s the point of continuing?

What felt different — and necessary — was choosing to stay present with uncertainty and still show up. That stance didn’t feel like optimism. It didn’t feel like denial. It felt like responsibility.

Two Images. One Journey.

There are moments and days in my rehab journey that feel like the image above — expansive, open, almost poetic. On those days, the horizon feels wide. Possibility is visible. The path ahead, while still uncertain, feels inviting.

And then there are days that feel like the second image — narrow, grounded, effortful. The focus shrinks to the next careful step. Progress is measured not in milestones, but in presence. Attention matters. Patience matters.

Both images are true.

Both belong to the same journey.

This is what I’m learning about recovery — and about life more broadly. Progress oscillates. It breathes. It teaches.

So when someone asks me, “How are you doing?”, I understand why the question is harder than it sounds. Any single answer risks flattening a living, non-linear experience into a snapshot.

What feels most honest now is something like:

Some days feel expansive and hopeful, others are more effortful — but I’m still walking.

That answer doesn’t promise outcomes.

It doesn’t deny difficulty.

And it doesn’t disengage from meaning.

A Contrast That Clicked for Me

At this point, something else became clear. This stance closely resembles an idea from the Bhagavad Gita — act with full commitment, but without attachment to results.

At first glance, that can sound similar to nihilism. But they are fundamentally different.

Nihilism says: If results aren’t guaranteed, effort is pointless.

Karma Yoga says: Effort is meaningful even when results aren’t guaranteed.

Nihilism dissolves responsibility by dissolving meaning.

Karma yoga preserves meaning even when certainty disappears.

Rehab has taught me that not expecting results doesn’t mean not caring. It means caring enough to act without entitlement to outcomes.

What I’m Carrying Forward

One belief feels stronger now than before: a meaningful life is about living to one’s full potential in ways that are rewarding to self, family, friends, fellow citizens, and the planet. That potential isn’t measured only by outcomes. Sometimes it’s measured by commitment — especially when outcomes are uncertain.

Progress is not proof of purpose.

Commitment is.

This journey continues — unevenly, imperfectly, and with intention.