In the previous article, I argued that anxiety is not an emotional reaction caused by losing status or failing at some objective condition. Anxiety appears when the control over your body, narrative, or meaning no longer belongs to you—when your survival is dependent on forces outside of your reach.
In other words: Anxiety is what you feel the moment you realize your survival is outsourced to the world. If you lived in full self-sufficiency like a turtle 🐢 —hunting, eating, sleeping alone—there would be no anxiety. But that is not a human life. Humans are creatures that exist between people. Meaning appears only when the world (other people) depends on you to survive. Meaning and anxiety are two sides of the same coin.
[See: The Phenomenology of Anxiety (Foreword): No Job, No Salary, No Security — So Why Am I Sleeping So Well?]
In this article, I’ll explore how meaning and anxiety are intertwined with survival itself. And I’ll explain why modern people feel anxious—even while receiving a stable paycheck—and what alternative ways of living remain possible.
1. Meaning and Anxiety Are One Body
(1) The Meaning-System — We Are Thrown Into a World Already Full of Signs
A newborn is not thrown into the wild. A baby opens its eyes inside a world shaped by hundreds of years of language, norms, symbols, law, and custom. The world is not an objective “thing” discovered—it is a perception that shapes us as we grow. A sound is not interpreted as vibration—it is heard as “someone saying hello.” The moment we begin studying a foreign language, a new world begins to open—and we slowly become a new kind of person.
Philosophers spent centuries debating how this subjective perception is formed. The American philosopher and motorcycle mechanic Matthew Crawford, in The World Beyond Your Head, describes this process using joint attention. A baby looks where the mother looks. She points and says, “Look.” If the baby calls a flower a “tree,” the mother corrects: “This is a flower. It has a scent. Its color is beautiful.” Through shared attention, a cognitive foundation—a shared world—is formed. The baby becomes “human” by attending to the same object as another.
Crawford’s framework actually traces back to Hegel. Hegel’s “struggle for recognition” argues that humans cannot become “selves” alone—identity emerges only through conflict and interaction. “Thesis–antithesis–synthesis” becomes the logic that shapes a shared world. Excellence—Crawford’s core value of craftsmanship—also echoes Hegel’s celebration of the Absolute Spirit.
Matthew Crawford adopts the Hegelian view that the meaning of life lies in the pursuit of absolute knowledge and gaining recognition from peers. He argues that through “joint attention,” humans form their perception of objects; thus, we grasp the world’s meaning by seeking the inherent properties—the absolute knowledge—of things. You can’t know the world by tapping on a computer at a desk. You must confront things directly, just as Iris Murdoch accessed ‘Russia’ through the study of the language, or a mechanic accesses ‘speed’ through a motorcycle. To be praised as ‘useful’ by one’s peers is, to Crawford, the meaning of life.
However, Crawford overlooks a critical flaw: struggling for excellence through peer recognition ultimately makes one’s life dependent on outsiders. Craving validation from master craftsmen only breeds a different kind of anxiety. It is no different from the corporate life he desists. The core issue is dependency. To be free from anxiety, one must not depend on others for survival, whether in an office or a workshop. Office workers are inherently anxious because they perform fragmented labor and rely entirely on money to consume, making them slaves to the system. A physical laborer’s only advantage is that they create what they use; their labor is integrated, making them less dependent.
Crawford seemed to sense this contradiction. He needed to prove that manual labor is inherently more sovereign than office work. Yet, without proving that the struggle for recognition itself has intrinsic value, seeking absolute knowledge while suffering from anxiety is the same for both the clerk and the mechanic. This is why he pivots to Merleau-Ponty. Merleau-Ponty believed we perceive the world only as much as we can express and feel through our bodies. He didn’t believe in pre-existing ‘absolute properties’ of objects; instead, he emphasized that meaning is already embedded in human ‘gestures and skills.’ Under this logic, the pursuit of absolute knowledge or recognition is irrelevant to life’s meaning. Murdoch didn’t learn Russian to impress natives; she did it to access the world of Russian literature through a physical skill. This is the Merleau-Pontian reality.
Crawford attempts to stitch these together, claiming the manual laborer works like Merleau-Ponty but achieves results like Hegel. But these two philosophies are polar opposites. Merleau-Ponty refuted the transcendence of consciousness and the objectivity of objects early on. How can you fuse them?
A life cannot simultaneously obey strict Hegelian order and enjoy Merleau-Ponty’s wild sensory freedom. You must choose.
There’s no need for complexity: When you use your body to help others survive, anxiety fades. That is the meaning of human coexistence. But when you depend on others for your own body’s survival, anxiety takes root. Be like the tortoise: it lives alone and knows no anxiety because it is entirely self-sufficient.
Actually, Even office work can provide a profound ‘meaning of life’ provided it is not fragmented into meaningless tasks. When a single gesture of yours can determine the survival of thousands, the work becomes visceral. Why else would dictators like Stalin or CEOs like Steve Jobs immerse themselves so ruthlessly in their labor? The fundamental distinction is not in the prestige, but in the nature of dependency: physical labor is simply less reliant on others for its existence than office work is.
(2) The Survival System — Your Body Is Only One
Let’s bring this down to the level of survival. To make a living, you must produce something—something the world recognizes as meaningful. But you only have one body. One pair of hands. One nervous system.
Even if you design a “field” you think is meaningful, its subsystems will inevitably be run by others. Take Altman himself: he dreams of AGI and prosperity for mankind. But the field is moved by Google, Apple, Samsung, SoftBank, Trump, regulators, boards, customers, employees.
If these players leave—or betray—sleep disappears. That is anxiety. If your ambition is to make six billion people depend on you, your anxiety will grow to the same scale.
(3) Meaning Exists Thanks to Others — Anxiety Exists Because of Others
A quick recap to solidify the learning loop: Humans feel meaning when we contribute to someone else’s survival, solve a problem, or reduce suffering. It doesn’t matter whether it is done through tools, knowledge, care, food, or hands.
Meaning is instinctive: I exist → therefore someone else lives. Parents feel joy when their baby depends on them 100%. When the child becomes independent, parents feel both relief and—quietly—loss. Because their existence is no longer required for survival.
This reveals the hidden subject behind Silicon Valley’s motto: “Make the world a better place”
Always contains a silent word in front:“I”. I want to make the world a better place → because that is how meaning is maximized. But meaning is not created alone. And because the body is only one, if we forget that, dreams inflate—and anxiety inflates with them.
This explains modern life: Everything we choose for convenience—platforms, corporations, employers, medication, algorithms, government— actually increases anxiety. Our survival system is outsourced. Remove any one of them and frustration explodes.
This is why in the Endorphin Philosophy I wrote: paradoxically, embracing 1% pain/inconvenience makes life more independent. It is simply the practice of refusing excessive dependence.
[See: Paul Jarvis’s “Company of One” Lifestyle vs. Saltnfire’s Endorphin Lifestyle]
(4) Those Who Depend on Others for Everything Always Talk the Most
With this lens, we can reinterpret an old figure: Confucius. In the East he is revered. In the West, he is a fortune-cookie quote—an old man preaching manners. His mother was a shaman. His original profession was not philosopher—but funeral conductor. He mastered rites and ceremonies—he believed society is peaceful when etiquette governs behavior, and music disciplines the heart.
He refused to remain a farmer or ritual worker. He wanted to connect his ideas to reality—so he entered politics. He failed. He resigned. He wandered. During his wandering, Confucius did not cook, earn money, or physically secure survival. His disciples—Zigong, Zilu, Yan Hui—handled those things.
Confucius was a saint in virtue— but in survival, he could do almost nothing. To contribute meaning, he had to become a self-development mentor. He had to speak. Teach. Persuade. Moralize. If he didn’t, he would simply not survive.
Zigong, a wealthy disciple, finally complained: “Master, you teach us literature and beautiful words. But when it comes to the nature of humanity and heaven itself, you give us nothing.”
If Confucius heard that, he would have felt a sting. He relied entirely on Zigong for survival— yet provided not enough meaning in return.
Key Insight
Talking too much is the body’s confession: “I cannot hold the world with my hands. So I must survive with words.”
Those who sustain the world with their bodies—say less. This is why I do not trust heroic self-development stories, or motivational lectures that sell success. I simply ask people who have actually done the thing. And if none exist— I think alone. And try it myself. I have no desire to become Confucius— to speak grand ideals while relying on others to make my rice. My dream is simpler: to build self-sufficient survival first— to cook, to make objects, to sell with my hands. Only after that—to help others, and let meaning arise naturally.
2. The Reward System That Dissolves Anxiety
(1) Personal Reward: Xiaoyou(逍遙遊) — Wandering in Ease
The core of the Endorphin model is: 1% pain → 99% comfort → becomes routine. Raise the hurdle slowly → immersion grows → pride emerges.
This is a closed internal circuit. Walking, body-weight exercise, language study, cooking, bike repair, brewing, baking— raising difficulty 1% at a time requires no external validation. No need for 120% hustle. Consistency is the point.
Endorphin reward = the internal certainty that you can take care of yourself. Even with little money, you can live at ease. That is xiaoyou—wandering freely. But endorphin routines alone do not create meaning. They silence anxiety. They do not connect you to others.
(2) Social Reward: Belonging
When I lived in Korea, I rode motorcycles. Three ways to repair one:
1️⃣ Buy parts and fix it yourself using YouTube
2️⃣ Call a truck driver and outsource
3️⃣ Hang out at a shop, watch the mechanic, ask questions
I always chose #3. Not for romance of craftsmanship— that illusion dies quickly. It was a transactional, survival-linked relationship. I paid → I supported his survival. He repaired → he supported mine. But neither of us wanted total dependence. He asked me to introduce more riders. I didn’t want to rely solely on him—risking inflated prices or no alternatives.
A healthy community = we depend just enough to matter, but not enough to fear each other.
Pure “passion communities” rarely survive. Real communities must include either emotional exchange (love) or material exchange (trade). That is the birthplace of belonging.
Final Synthesis
To dissolve anxiety, two layers of reward must operate.
- Internal: endorphin reward — immersion, calm, self-efficacy
- External: social reward — mutual contribution without over-dependence
These are not two separate systems. They integrate around the body. When you create something through routine → sell it → and someone’s survival benefits… You arrive at a place where hunger and meaning are both satisfied. That is why a chef feels deepest joy the moment a guest eats his food and pays— because both rewards merge into one.
(3) Modern Anxiety and the Compulsion to Escape
Modern anxiety, when you strip away the noise, comes down to three causes.
[Dopamine Addiction — Always Trying to Escape Pain]
Today, people refuse even 1% pain. They chase comfort, novelty, stimulation. Netflix, YouTube, Shorts — losing time in someone else’s rhythm and calling it “flow.” But there is no achievement. Empty immersion leads to emptiness.
Others swing to the opposite pole — dopamine abstinence. They grit their teeth and “hold on.” But this is still trapped inside a moral dualism: pleasure = bad, pain = good. It is like crossing a tightrope over a cliff. One slip → total collapse. Zhuangzi offers a different teaching: Pain becomes pleasure. Pleasure becomes pain. They are not enemies — they turn into each other. But we’re human — we fear the fall. So instead, I propose: choose only 1% pain — voluntarily. That alone reshapes your nervous system.
[Excessive Dependence on the World —
A Society Where Not Moving Your Hands = Higher Status]
In modern society, “status” means not touching anything. Matthew Crawford blames Taylorism — the ghost that split labor from knowledge. He says physical labor has value. But the core issue isn’t whether white-collar or blue-collar is superior — the real problem is this:
The more white-collar your life becomes, the more your survival system depends on someone else.
Salary, network, knowledge, medical benefits, health insurance — your ability to live is outsourced. So you can still earn a high income — and still feel deeply anxious.
Why? Because when you stop working… you have no embodied output the world depends on. I have friends in corporate jobs who tell me: “Bro, shouldn’t I be quietly preparing something before I quit?” And I reply: “The problem is — when you’re inside the company, you can’t see the next step. You have to step out first before you can see what to learn.”
No matter how many pensions, insurance plans, counseling sessions you stack… If your survival is fundamentally dependent on someone else’s institution, anxiety never leaves.
[When Internal and External Rewards Are Split]
Some people are financially independent — pension holders, early retirees, FIRE enthusiasts. They mow lawns, water flowers, walk daily. They can handle 1% pain. Yet they feel restless. Empty.
Why? Because no one depends on them. They produce nothing others rely on. Their phone is silent — even their children call less, because their survival now belongs to another world. Humans cannot live on bread alone. If you do not create — if no one depends on your work — emptiness arrives. That is a turtle’s life, not a human life.
🧭 Summary — Two Circuits
Humans operate through two loops:
| Loop | Description |
|---|---|
| Closed Loop (Endorphin) | Caring for your body → routine → immersion → peace |
| Open Loop (Contribution) | Helping others survive → being needed → meaning |
Meaning arises only when these two loops meet. When your inner world and the shared world connect — anxiety dissolves.
3. The Fake Community of Modern Life — Hipster Crews
A real community means: we stake survival on each other — but not to the point of fear. Your output must hold intrinsic value inside the group — helping others survive through something real. Then: meaning rises, anxiety drops, belonging appears. But in Korea, a different model dominates: the Hipster Crew.
A crew that: Doesn’t exchange real output, But seeks group attention from the outside together. This is precisely why the ‘shout-out’ is the heartbeat of hipster culture. It’s the classic rule: if three people stare at the sky, everyone else eventually looks up. When they start stroking each other’s egos, the masses flock in, convinced that there must be something real behind the hype.
Why? Because competition is brutal. Gathering traffic alone is almost impossible. So people synchronize their frequency — to amplify attention. But without exchange of value, the community cannot sustain.
- Outside the circle → you feel excluded → anxiety.
- Inside the circle → you feel anonymous → anxiety.
(1) Case: Hipster F&B
Hipster restaurants live on: dopamine customers, Instagram validation, viral reviews. Because they have no loyal base, they require endless new traffic.
- In the kitchen — just performance, not craft.
- Onions tossed — not caramelized.
- Sauce blended — not simmered.
- Technique shallow, output unstable.
- Google rating 4.7 — anonymous review 1.3.
Marketing is strong. Anxiety is stronger. They expand the store → hire staff → people start depending on them → temporary meaning appears. But customer relationships remain empty → anxiety grows → collabs with influencers → industry mixers → tags exchanged → appearances maintained.
But inside the crew — hierarchy remains. Many realize: “I would’ve suffered less if I just worked alone.” They lose interest. Burnout arrives.
(2) Structure: Hipster Crew vs. Sustainable Community
| Element | Hipster Crew | Sustainable Community |
|---|---|---|
| Survival Contribution | ❌ None | ✅ Present |
| Output Quality | Shallow, inconsistent | Deep, repeatable |
| External Dependence | Excessive (marketing-driven) | Moderate |
| Reward Type | Dopamine | Endorphin |
| Anxiety | Structural | Manageable |
| Longevity | Low | High |
(3) Final Point
The lesson is simple: Meaning does not come from the crew. Meaning comes from the customer. If your food is sloppy, your clothes are re-tagged and resold, and your work is all posture— no community will save you. A sustainable tribe is built between you and the person who pays for your output
because they depend on it to live a little better.
Always ask: How does my output change the customer’s survival?
4. Who Actually Lives a Meaningful Life —
Without Internal Anxiety?
After all this theory, the question becomes real: Who, in the real world, lives with meaning — and without internal anxiety?
If we combine the requirements we’ve discussed, such a person would:
- Contribute to someone else’s survival → meaning
- Possess embodied skills → self-sufficiency / minimum economic dependence
- Live through endorphin-based routines → no psychological dependence on dopamine
Does such a person exist?
(1) Why Sam Altman and Elon Musk Are Always on Camera
Open YouTube and you’ll see Sam Altman or Elon Musk — constantly. Interviews. Panels. Keynotes. They’re supposedly too busy running trillion-dollar systems.
So why do they appear publicly so often? It’s not money. It’s meaning. Their visions cannot be executed alone. Their systems depend on: investors, regulators, boards, global talent, geopolitical forces. Their world is high dependence → high anxiety. So they must continuously rearrange the narrative of power: “I define the meaning of the AI age.”, “Humanity depends on us.”, “We are going to Mars.”
This performance is not vanity — it is a psychological necessity that makes the world depend on them, so that their anxiety goes down. A leader is not just a manager. A leader is a designer of meaning — because their survival depends on others believing in the story.
(2) A Free and Meaningful Life — The Monk Who Walked Off the Map
But meaning is not only found in big tech titans. One of my distant relatives was a monk — not affiliated with a major temple, not obsessed with doctrine, never quoted scripture (his books were always pristine 😆). He had children before ordaining. He wrote commercial “healing” books. He earned money chanting at funerals and reading fortunes. People liked him — because his words comforted them.
Followers brought him food. They voluntarily gave offerings. He drove an SUV. And yet — I felt he was free. Because he built a stone grotto with his own hands, and prayed there every morning. That was his endorphin routine. He did not need dopamine.
His life had:
- Small contribution (comforting others)
- Embodied ritual
- Moderate dependence
- Peace
He had no grand vision. No innovation. No wealth. But he lived and died without internal turbulence. Can modern people live like this? Farmers. Woodworkers. Instrument-makers. Solo creators. One-person local businesses. Self-sufficient artists.
I want to build a philosophy for that life. Why? Because in 🇰🇷 Korea, they’re dismissed as “useless.” But Zhuangzi taught us this: the useless is often the most free. That’s the path I choose.
6. Final Conclusion
Anxiety and meaning are not emotional problems. They are structural problems between the world and your survival system.
- When dependence becomes excessive → anxiety rises
- When contribution disappears → meaning evaporates
Every community, every job, every relationship follows one rule:
Meaning = a structure where your output helps someone survive
Anxiety = a structure where your survival depends on forces you cannot control
This explains why anxiety is especially high in South Korea. People depend excessively on: platforms, reputation, Instagram, external traffic. Yet the world rarely contributes back to their survival. This asymmetry generates existential tension. Hipster crews, Instagram creator circles, entrepreneur “royalty role-play” — they follow the same principle: Belonging without contribution = dopamine. Dopamine creates dependence. Dependence creates anxiety.
Meaning disappears — only anxiety remains.
What Actually Works
Whether it’s:
- a monk comforting villagers,
- a chef feeding a guest,
- or a tech leader maintaining an ecosystem —
the shared thread is:
“I know my output helps someone survive.”
That is the only reliable source of meaning. And the only force that consistently reduces anxiety. What we are searching for is not a glamorous tribe — but a small, firm world where contribution circulates, and dependence is controlled.
👉 Meaning emerges by helping others survive.
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