Purpose—we all wonder what ours is and we all have one. Purpose is revealed when we stop trying to forcibly manufacture it. It sort of just shows up, and we sink in to a richer life. For some it might be a nursing school acceptance letter, for others perhaps purpose manifests as a baby in the womb. Some might find themselves at sea or fostering abused dogs or children. Serving food in a restaurant to a hungry community is noble too. Our purpose has been laid out for us by Ghandi. Be the change. With the utmost respect for Ghandi and an amateur knowledge of what was actually said in that speech, I would like to take his imperative a bit further. Be the change, and serve others. All good deeds are received into the collective pool of benevolence. Love and its efforts are never lost. When lost in a sea of doubt and despair, we can revel in the socio-spiritual affects of altruistic philanthropists like Mother Teresa. We feel the affect of common bond with people such as Walt Whitman, and his devotion to the Divine Self. Thoreau and his devotion to stillness. Sylvia Plath and her raw and vulnerable expression of the pain that pervades all things. Nature poets who remind us magic is real—John Muir, Wendell Berry, Mary Oliver, and the like. The misfits and the rebels—Hunter Thompson, Bukowski, Neil Cassidy and his once-lover Allen Ginsberg. Their words have spoken truth to uncertainty. Don't we all know now that life is a beautiful tragedy, the only constant is change, and our soul's purpose is to love and be loved in return? Aren't we all timeless souls coming together for an infinitesimal period of time, helping each other realize our greatest potential? Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Or maybe not.
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