“How can I claim my happiness and joy if I don’t know what that means?” I hear this question on a daily basis. It’s an epidemic of ennui. There’s a sadness that accompanies the women (mostly) and men (some) who are struggling to make the most of this life. There’s a bit of nostalgia for something they can’t quite put their finger on and wistfulness about time racing. This isn’t some mid-life crisis or ego-driven need to do more and acquire more, this is a longing of the soul and the heart to leave an impact before our time here is done. Could it by my age or simply the time I’m living in? Lately every week is full of loss of friends and family at an age that seems too young. While I personally believe that life goes on after we die here on Earth, I still feel the sharpness of the loss and the chair that’s left vacant at the dinner table. People like to make fun of those looking for meaning in their lives – mocking “the navel gazers” for having such an easy life that they need only worry about leaving their mark. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was doing the mocking. I was so busy in the do-do-do and accumulate life that I couldn’t fathom what would possess someone to seek a higher meaning. Until all the accumulating stopped feeling good and fun and I was looking at the years looming before with more than a little dread. I felt guilty about that too. From the outside my life looked pretty spectacular, with a successful business, a cute house in Del Ray, a husband, a convertible and more. Still it was starting to feel like “stuff” was running my life. I felt…