The Meaning You Make
By Jimmy Swinder
Life rarely announces its lessons ahead of time. Most of what matters comes quietly, in the middle of long days, subtle frustrations, and small choices no one else pays attention to. I used to think meaning arrived fully formed, like something you discovered on the horizon if you just searched hard enough. But the older I get, the more I realize it doesn’t work that way. Meaning isn’t found. It’s built, one decision at a time.
I’ve spent most of my professional life inside environments where very little is predictable. Sets change, schedules shift, plans collapse, and the day never looks the way it did on paper. In those moments, you start to understand that the experience itself doesn’t hand you meaning. It’s how you interpret it. Two people can stand in the same mess. One sees frustration. The other sees direction. And nothing external separates them except the story they tell themselves about what the moment means.
There was a day early in my work life when everything that could go wrong did. Delays stacked on delays. People were frustrated. Equipment didn’t arrive. Communication was failing. I was still new, trying to prove myself, and the weight of the situation felt heavier than it probably was. I remember standing off to the side for a moment, watching the room, and realizing I had a choice. I could join the frustration. Or I could decide, quietly, that this situation meant something else: an opportunity to stay steady, stay useful, and show that I belonged.
No one applauded. No one gave a speech about resilience. But that moment stayed with me. It was the first time I realized meaning doesn’t come from circumstances. It comes from what you bring to them.
Over the years, that idea has shaped how I look at work and life. Meaning isn’t dramatic. It’s rarely tied to the big moments we think will define us. It lives inside the ordinary ones. Waking up when you don’t want to. Doing your job well even when no one is watching. Choosing patience instead of irritation. Showing up with integrity even when the day doesn’t reward it. These small choices accumulate. And eventually, they become the story of who you are.
In production, you learn quickly that nothing works unless people take ownership of their role. You set up for hours so someone else can deliver a line in a few seconds. You move equipment that no one will ever notice. You solve problems that never get mentioned again. But there’s something meaningful about that kind of work. It teaches you that impact doesn’t always need recognition. Sometimes the reward is knowing the project moved forward because you were part of it.
Understanding that changed the way I approach everything. Instead of waiting for life to hand me meaning, I try to build it through action. If a situation feels pointless, I ask myself what I can contribute that gives it purpose. If the work feels repetitive, I try to use it to improve my discipline. If a day feels chaotic, I choose to see it as practice for becoming more patient. These interpretations aren’t automatic. They’re choices. And the more I practice them, the more natural they become.
There’s another thing you learn when you stop waiting for meaning and start making it. Life becomes steadier. You stop relying on external highs to keep you motivated. You stop letting minor setbacks dictate your direction. You don’t crumble every time something shifts. When meaning comes from the inside, circumstances don’t have as much power over you.
That doesn’t mean everything suddenly becomes easy. There are still days when things feel heavy. There are still moments when the path is unclear. But those moments become part of the process instead of interruptions to it. You start to trust yourself more. You start to see that every experience, good or bad, can serve you if you decide to let it.
Looking back, I can trace most of my growth to the moments that forced me to choose who I wanted to be. Not the comfortable ones. The stressful ones. The confusing ones. The ones where meaning wasn’t obvious until I created it. Those are the moments that shape you. They’re also the ones you remember.
We all go through seasons where life feels directionless, where the things we’re doing seem disconnected from where we want to be. But meaning doesn’t require the perfect plan. It requires intention. It requires choosing to show up with purpose even when the moment feels small. When you do that, the day starts to shift. Your mindset shifts. And eventually, your path does too.
These days, I try to pay attention to the moments that feel insignificant. They’re usually the ones teaching me something. A conversation. A decision. A choice to stay patient. A choice to be better prepared. A choice to put in effort when it would be easier not to. Each one is a brick. Build enough of them, and suddenly you’re standing inside a life with structure, direction, and meaning—one you built yourself.
Meaning isn’t something I wait for anymore. It’s something I make. And the more I build it, the more I realize it was never supposed to come from outside. It was always supposed to come from within.
