#PURPOSE
In pursuit of my purpose
In the socials and of course conversations socially, the word that keeps popping up is, “Purpose”. The conversations and reels are of similar thought, “what is your purpose in life”. Sure you do a job and have family and are blessed or not blessed, depending on the day you’re have having. But after all the checks and balances are in place, what is your purpose? I will usually have a thought in that direction, but I never mull on it too much. It’s as though these words don’t affect me as much, am I distracted (off with the fairies, more like), am I disinterested in being purposeful? Do I not think it’s an important conversation? I am preoccupied, no doubt.
At what stage in your life is the right time to ask this deep and unnerving question, is there suppose to be a time even? Here’s what finally got my attention, a conversation with a loved one, and this is what he said that had the hair on my hands standing. “It’s different when you are living your purpose, when you know what it is that you’re meant to be doing”. He was referring to my hanging by a thread writing career, my not yet blown up writer status. I was awe struck for a couple of days, It didn’t matter in that strand of time, what surrounds the words I wrote, It just mattered that I knew I was a writer. I have known since I was a little girl, only two things for sure. That I’d like to be a mother, and that I would like to be a writer.
I was young when I fell in love, 19. I married the man of my dreams, he was going to be the father of my children(I don’t think he anticipated more than two dogs). Six years later, three boys and a dog in tow, he was living in my purpose, of being a parent and he’s been gracious ever since (Some days even the better parent).
I never stopped writing, through it all, my poetry was that life line without which I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening in my story. It wasn’t a career back then, it was small assignments, it was interim jobs, it was a hobby(not my words, read eye roll). I was just constantly writing without the realisation that It was in fact my “Purpose”. I loved an audience, usually a small one, who’d be impressed with my crafty musings. It always gave me pleasure to share it with anyone who cared to listen/read. But the sharing, getting praised (or not) was not the purpose, it was bonus. The purpose was always simple, to write.
Two short movies that I was I was able to bring to life, a book of poems, and a computer full of stories, more and more that get written as and when I am disciplined about it. The Purpose just feeds itself, It helps me when I am down, lest I forget, it makes me feel good above everything else it does. It gives me direction when I am lost(happens more often than I even acknowledge to myself). I know now that your “Purpose” can’t be attached to anything, it can’t be for any other reason, other than being your soul shadow, one that you can palpably feel. You may be living your purpose and not even know it, like I have been for years. Or you can put some effort into your think tank and come up with it. It doesn’t need to be a singular wanting and doing. It could be plurals. Mine was/is dual. But boy was it a relief, a little spark of joy that made think, how lucky I am to be living in purpose.
When the kids got older, I thought to myself, I need a new purpose, but in fact I have just rewired that to be, lets focus on my other purpose; The love that is words floating through the sea of inexhaustible tidings. It is a career and that is sheer luck!
Keep living your purpose purposefully!!