conscious self-portrait

What even gives our lives the potential for meaning in the first place?
There is no body without it, but it does not need a body to exist. It’s everywhere. We feel it and perceive it, yet are unable to grasp its meaning, form nor existence. It somehow takes all this activity in a brain and body and turns it into meaning. My vision of my whole self cannot be captured in one single object, when all that can be objectively given to that single object are the measurements of my body the consciousness that I am able to perceive has undefinable qualities and expands every second.
Maybe the one and only potential for having a meaning in this life is to be conscious.