“I am reading a book for a Unity Zoom class led by Ann Williams: Jim Rosemergy’s “The Quest for Meaning.”
At the end of the first chapter, he says to write the following sentence three times:
My life has purpose.
My life has purpose.
My life has purpose.
I don’t know if I believe this or if this even resonates with me. I think I am copacetic with my life not having purpose or meaning. Maybe it is how we define purpose and meaning. But every physical action or creation of mine--or anybody’s--is temporary. It will pass away some day…Even plastic eventually decomposes.
Indeed, I think I wanted to take this course and read this book to explore how and if purpose and meaning affect my human or spiritual experience.
Earlier this year, as I would sit doing nothing of substance—nothing externally productive, that is—I wondered if that would cause me to wither and die. I wondered if I could justify my existence on this planet in a human body if I was not spending most of my time producing something or another. (I acknowledge to myself that much of my time was not just sitting on the couch, but a good deal of it was…playing games or watching videos.)
That was before the coronavirus pandemic. Kind of ironic, eh? And it was also before my month-long vacation that happened just before the pandemic reached the states.
We came back from Spain in mid-March and had to self-quarantine for 14 days. Then we had, almost three months now, no volunteering for Walton Arts Center and no Meals on Wheels and limited grocery shopping. After our self quarantine, I was able to add two grandgirls to my weekly mix of activity. But now, looking forward, I see there will be no festivals, no concerts and no working for the AMP this summer, and I wonder how I will move through this inactivity.
(It is interesting that I have purchased a sketchbook and pencils and am enjoying Zoom art experiences each week. I’ve never drawn before. My talent is writing. But this sketching is messing with my brain and perspectives in new ways, and that pleases me.)
In his book, Jim Rosemergy says our purpose is to know God, but I’ve always known God. I call God by the name of Source. Or Love. And I am its very substance. So are Rosemergy’s words similar to telling a fish in water it needs to get to know water? Am I trying to know a purpose or meaning that is the very substance of who I am?
When I am sitting on my deck in the early morning, with the birds being birds and the wind being wind and the flowers being flowers, I am being me and I think that is enough.
But then I go inside and start my day, and later when I sit to play games, I wonder if I am enough. Do I need to do more to make my life meaningful or am I ragging on myself because I’ve always ragged on myself. I think I know the answer, but that critical inner voice just doesn’t want to let me off the hook: so it tries to scare me with the threat of withering and dying if I don’t get up and go do something meaningful.
If someone else came to me with this, I would know exactly how to counsel them: kick that toxic voice out of your life for good.
That’s a goal, then. And where there’s a goal, there must be purpose, right? We’ll see…