A year ago, I lost all sense of purpose. Since then, I have attempted to find a new one. I asked for one. I applied for some. I mixed potions in a cauldron to invent one. I’ve read 300 books to stumble across one. I walked a thousand miles on the beach to inspire one. I’ve tried finding a new purpose so many times I’ve lost count.
No concrete purpose has emerged. I can’t even glimpse a vague path in undiscovered country and I reconnoiter frequently.
Maybe I should stop the reconnoitering and go on forays instead. Maybe I should ride out with a standard, perhaps even with a sidekick or existential six shooter. Maybe I should hit the real ground and bushwhack trails, blaze away, get the Natty Bumppo thing going. Maybe I should finally learn how to play a guitar and busk in the poorest town on the Oregon Coast. Maybe the ocean no longer can help me.
It is a strange and unprecedented feeling for me to live without tangible purpose and to feel at times almost powerless to change that.
Perhaps I need to redefine the meaning of the word “power” and other words I thought I understood. I’ve already done so with words such as “family” and “friendship.” Those were good redefinitions. There are many more to come. I may even take up the word “ocean” and toss it around for something fresh.
How do I summon a heretofore unknown power to find a new purpose? What must I still lose to attain clarity in how to proceed?
Is there purpose in purposelessness? Maybe I’ll never find a large noble (paid) purpose but enact tiny (free) healing ones around me. That’s not so bad, is it? The need is everywhere.
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