We have given great value to the philosophers–Wittgenstein, Hume, Sartre, and so on–for their ability to ponder the meaningful questions about life, but can they cut their cucumbers?
The meaning of life is not down some dark alley of thought, it is here now: Can you meet someone without judging them?; Can you love without expectation?; Can you remain present when preparing dinner?
One has only to look into the face of a philosopher to realize he or she is not full of the joys of life. Honoring such people only reinforces their miserable situation. And I think they would not continue down that road if we didn’t heap praise on them.
Learn to cut your cucumbers. No one will value you for your efforts, but you will come to know the meaning of life.