Grass
Jessica Crispin is trying to suck the marrow out of life:

I gravitate to books with titles like Meaning in Life, the latest being Susan Wolf's. These books are mostly nice antidotes to those insufferableables who once dabbled in Wicca and now really love Rumi and tell college graduates to "Follow Your Bliss!" (look, they hand silk-screened it onto a handy little t-shirt so you won't forget!). Wolf thinks following your bliss is useless. People are passionate about a lot of stupid things. It's not a great mantra. Meaning, I think, comes from doing a full accounting of your limitations and assets, your passions and your weaknesses, your belief system and your fears, and then rubbing up against the things that cause you to panic, like an allergy skin scratch test, and find out what your reactions are.

Once you figure out how you can contribute to the greater good, once you're able even to define that, you take that information and pour yourself into one direction. Regardless of discomfort or regrets or what-ifs. (And then doing that over and over again, until death.) That does not fit on a T-shirt.

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