There are many different pursuits that people enjoy, human endeavour is a wide and varied domain. I could tell you what I enjoy, but I doubt that'll give you the answer you're looking for, only you can ever know what you enjoy.
However, as you asked me to indulge you, here are a number of non-electronics-based activities that I enjoy: dancing, singing, cycling, sailing, swimming, writing, thinking, stargazing, kissing, playing guitar, watching a campfire, spending time at the seaside. I can go on if you want.
Writing code fits nicely in that list of activities that you enjoy. These are all fine activities. Is there more to life than doing activities that you enjoy?
The comment I responded to said: "Don't forget that there's more to this life than writing code, folks."
If "writing code" represents "doing activities that you enjoy" then what else is there to life?
Life is inherently meaningless, and it's up to us to decide what our lives mean. If someone decides that writing code is what gives their life meaning, then who are you to tell them they are incorrect?
> "If "writing code" represents "doing activities that you enjoy" then what else is there to life?"
Writing code is just one activity that it's possible to enjoy. If that's the only thing that someone enjoys then fair enough, but how would someone know it's all they enjoy without trying other things out?
> "Life is inherently meaningless, and it's up to us to decide what our lives mean."
Yes, we can decide what we want to make of our lives, and whilst this idea can be a bit overwhelming at first, if you can get over that it can feel liberating.
I'd also add that that life doesn't have to have a meaning to be worthwhile. Searching for meaning can take our focus away from experience. This story from Margaret Mead helped me understand that:
"Last night I had the strangest dream. I was in a laboratory with Dr. Boas and he was talking to me and a group of other people about religion, insisting that life must have a meaning, that man couldn’t live without that. Then he made a mass of jelly-like stuff of the most beautiful blue I had ever seen — and he seemed to be asking us all what to do with it. I remember thinking it was very beautiful but wondering helplessly what it was for. People came and went making absurd suggestions. Somehow Dr. Boas tried to carry them out — but always the people went away angry, or disappointed — and finally after we’d been up all night they had all disappeared and there were just the two of us. He looked at me and said, appealingly “Touch it.” I took some of the astonishingly blue beauty in my hand, and felt with a great thrill that it was living matter. I said “Why it’s life — and that’s enough” — and he looked so pleased that I had found the answer — and said yes “It’s life and that is wonder enough.”"
