I have often written of “purpose/meaning” just like that; as compound and interchangeable terms and concepts. But as of late I have been speculating as to what sort of difference there is between “purpose” and “meaning” (something beyond quoting a grammatical dictionary).
Everything has a “purpose” but not necessarily “meaning.”
It seems that “purpose” is intrinsic but “meaning” extrinsic.
For example, a baseball bat has a purpose: to hit balls. Yet, a baseball bat that was given to me by Reggie Jackson has purpose and now also has meaning since I gave it meaning.
Thus, rocks, chinchillas, cucumbers, stars, humans, etc. all have purpose as a natural consequence of the fact of their existence.
Another example, a human being has a purpose such as passing on their DNA. Yet, meaning does not seem to the sort of thing that we commandeer for ourselves, not something that we can assign to ourselves but something that is given unto us, bequeathed upon us by others.
For instance, when my young son sees a word that he does not yet know, even if he can actually read it, he will ask, “What does that mean?” If we suddenly underwent worldwide amnesia written texts would be meaningless-we give meaning to words even as the original author employed the words due to the agreed upon meaning(s) that we have given them.
Moreover, it seems that whatever meanings we have to other human beings are meaning-ettes. Ultimately, presupposing absolute materialism; everything is purposeful but meaningless. This is because our purpose is a function while meaning is of a whole different category more akin to something ethereal-a concept.
Our purpose is that we perform certain functions and the function serves a certain purpose and is then done with. However, if meaning is something that we give to ourselves or that other, finite humans, give to us then it is fleeting since one day-whether we are a Mother Theresa or a Joseph Stalin-anything and everything that we have ever thought, said or done will simply not matter in the least bit: be it tomorrow, in a year, in a decade, in a century, in a millennia-we will be gone and nothing that we have ever thought, said or done will be the least bit relevant.
Thus, to recap: since purpose is part of a process purpose serves its, well, purpose and is done with.
However, since meaning is a concept that exists within a mind-either ours (which I do not accept but would be willing to entertain) or that of others-once the mind ceases to function the meaning ceases and so we see that ultimately everything is meaningless once the facade, or consoling delusion, of meaning-ettes are exposed for what they are-nothing. Nothing, perhaps, but a fleeting bio-chemical reaction within the mind of a fleeting bio-organism.
If we were not conscious we would merely be, pretty much what we are on a materialistic/naturalistic view, bio-organisms who are one day moving about and the next worm food-worms who are merely bio-organisms who are one day moving about and the next food for something else.
As an aside: I can only wonder why we long for, seek for, strive for, live for, die for, meaning.
Let us presuppose that meaning does truly exist.
What is meaning?
It is a concept.
What is a concept?
A concept is an idea.
Where does an idea exist?
An idea exist in a mind.
Is meaning infinite or finite?
If it is finite then it is not truly meaning (though it could be purpose), so it is infinite.
Does meaning change or is it unchangeable?
If it changes then it is not meaning (“change” here meaning from meaning to something else and not just a change within the original meaning in which case it is still meaning).
Thus, meaning is an infinite and unchanging idea that exists in a mind.
What sort of mind contains an infinite and unchanging idea?
A mind that is infinite and unchanging.
What sort of being possesses an infinite and unchanging mind?
An infinite and unchanging being.
Therefore, while everything and everyone has a purpose only the infinite and unchanging being can give us meaning.