When I was a freshman in college I took philosophy 101. We spent a few classes on the topic of the "meaning of life." The conclusion of students and professor was that there couldn't be any such thing as the meaning of life, and that the best we could do was to seek "meanings in life."
I remember being shocked. It wasn't good enough for me. Everything about the history of reflective human consciousness seemed to me to be about something more, from the Greek search for the arche to the quest in late modern science for the "theory of everything."
I wanted more than "meanings in life;" I wanted a seamless garment of a sense of how to interpret finding oneself as a human life in the world.