What My Greek Teacher Taught Me About the Meaning of Life

Back in high school, I met a teacher who would become one of the most important people in my life. He was my Greek teacher (yes, I studied classical Greek, and yes, it was torture).

But the real teaching happened after class. My teacher M. started an after-school philosophy club, where he would lecture on Western (and some Eastern) philosophy. As soon as I attended the first meeting, I was smitten.

I wasn’t just fascinated by philosophy in itself — more than anything, it was the personality of my teacher that got me fired up. Here was someone who truly thought things through.

Even more importantly — my teacher M. lived by his philosophical maxims (unlike so many academics I met later). His daily routine reflected his philosophical convictions — Platonism and its offshoots. Consequently, he rejected most “achievements” of modern life.

In short — my teacher M. was on a mission. And it was that aspect of him, him being so driven, that put me under his spell.

So inevitably, the day came when I asked my philosophical hero, "What is the meaning of life?"

And he simply responded with:

“To acquire a taste for the good things in life.”

This was not the answer I had expected. I was ready for a metaphysical monologue, hinting at Plato's inner circle teachings. But this? This sounded like fortune cookie advice.

For the disappointment it created, his answer stayed with me all of these years. And eventually, I started to see his point.

“To acquire a taste for the good things in life” makes use of an analogy — dieting.

The goal of a healthy diet is to learn how to appreciate the “good” foods out there. You learn to love broccoli, you start to salivate when you smell grilled salmon, and a fresh-cut pineapple is ambrosia to you.

This is easier said than done. It takes years to wane yourself off “regular” food and truly crave healthy food, to the point where you want nothing else.

This concept transfers to all other areas of life.

Take media consumption. Instead of checking Instagram five times a day, you slowly, over the course of years, develop a taste for well-woven narratives about the human condition. You read these classics of world literature not because you are a snob but because they are the best thing available.

Another example — movement. Instead of sitting in a chair for most of your waking hours, you slowly, over the course of years, learn to appreciate the joy of your body in motion. You cherish doing demanding physical challenges — how they make you feel strong and in control.

A final example — relationships. Instead of chasing popularity with the many, you, over the course of many years, learn to seek out the social outliers (like my teacher M.). Their ability to give will outweigh anything the herd can offer.

If the point of life is to “acquire a taste for the good things,” then happiness equals self-cultivation. We must cultivate ourselves to appreciate the more worthwhile flavors in life. This means postponing gratification. But when gratification finally comes, it will feel sensational.

What are your thoughts? Are you currently “cultivating your taste buds?” In what ways? Shoot me a message!

Talk to you soon,

Niels