A fascinating conversation developed in the magical setting of Eel Pie Island, where my sisters garden stops a toes length from the Thames. The sky had turned purple, the jets rumbled overhead to Heathrow, and unexpectedly the meaning of life became the topic. Lo and behold!

Now Sheba and I have always been a bit more than a stones throw apart when it comes to how we experience life and what we want from it. She is very much in her body; her slim and strong physique a testament to the miles she cycles and the workouts she attends. She parties, she plays, she travels, she brings people together, she’ll try most physical challenges at least once and she laughs. I, on the other hand, look at the stars, the trees, the colour around the edge of a geranium, talk to cats like I talk to people and am beginning to have a certain empathy with ants! My watch word is inspiration and I want to reach beyond the body and dig my hands in to the energy of life and mould it.

Out of the blue Sheba told me how she had woken up and recognized that what she’d learned at school about the origin of life was a Christian perspective. All of a sudden she took a step back and actively chose to believe more in the Darwinian concept of life’s unfoldment which ultimately led her to the idea that there is no inherent point to life.

I gasped. My response was that I couldn’t live if there was no point. After all, if life was pointless, why live?

Sheba became really animated and asked me to imagine this – what if life was just like one big party; it didn’t matter who you talked to or if you split your wine, and it was up to you how much enjoyment you got from the experience. There’d be up times and down as even parties have their own rhythm. She went on to develop the image – everything you want was at the party – a wide range of people from different walks of life, some cool entertainment, all the food and drink you could desire (probably in one corner of the party though). No point – just one big ‘event’.

My addition was to imagine that a small number of guests suddenly decided that wasn’t enough. So they gathered a whole load of stuff – chairs which weren’t being sat on, a table maybe, anything they could lay their hands on and they built a huge tall tower. Then they climbed it just to explore and then when they got to the top, they called out…

‘Oh my God, the view from up here is amazing! You think that’s all there is, that garden that you’re partying in, but there is so much more to see.’

But could I make a case for their being a point?

I wanted to.

This morning I got a sense of how I would love Sheba to see the world from my perspective. If there is a point to life then shouldn’t she know it? After all, if there is a point, it’s important that everyone wakes up to that, right?

And there’s the rub! Unless I’m enlightened I’m likely to think that my ‘point’ is the right point and suddenly world wars erupt.

Much to my astonishment I found I was leaning towards her idea that there is absolutely no point to life – and yet how can I live with such a barren belief?

But is there anything to stop me from having my own point?

The utter joy and freedom! I can have my own point. It doesn’t have to conform to anyone else’s point. It can be earth shattering in its aim, or simple and down to earth; from climbing towers to see new perspectives to enjoying the party. Whatever you want.

Now Sheba and I can be at the same party – she dances and plays with the people, while I climb the tower to see the view and peek over the horizon.