Why am I here?
A question asked by many no doubt...
I am at a loss to know my purpose these days, as the things that kept me occupied for decades no longer seem able to distract me... And the things that kept me focussed more recently, seem to be leading absolutely nowhere.
My brother once famously told me... 'There seems to be no logical purpose for post-menopausal women. However, I cannot deny that there must be something, because they continue to survive - often outliving the men of the same age...'
He is, perhaps, not the most sensitive of souls...But his words stirred something deep within me. Regardless of the inability to procreate, wisdom must surely count for something - even in todays relentless pursuit of acquiring needlessly and getting nowhere.
But isn't that exactly what I am doing? Getting nowhere?
I have been a writer all my life.
The best it got was a weekly column I had for nearly 5 years. I wrote about anything and everything - it was the perfect outlet for my
creative process, and judging by the response from readers, sometimes my words made a positive difference to peoples lives. There was a purpose in it, and I felt all the years of life experience were being put to good use.
As time went by, my musings became more thoughtful and hopeful, and less of the weekly rant I was taken on to write, until one day I got an email telling me it was all over.
Since then I have written two, nearly three books. I have written countless articles too. But they are never picked up - and after a while, it is difficult to keep motivated. One begins to question if what one writes is relevant to a society addicted to aggression, and
very often in denial of its place in the cosmos, and of life itself.
The gulf between me and what the public seems to want is never more evident than when walking around the local garden centre.
Amongst the potted palms and china buddhas, I am always amazed to find whole book sections devoted to War. Nestling up against titles on cooking and flower arranging, are heavily illustrated volumes depicting the horrors of conflict. I cannot accept the argument often put forward that such things are made to simply remind people not to do it again. No - It is clear there is a market for it, and people enjoy looking at the distressing images, and reading of the boy heroes with no names, who died
for some forgotten cause in some foreign land. To my mind it represents another distortion in society.
But wait! Perhaps it is me that is distorted. Perhaps I think too much! Perhaps I should settle for a life devoted to a precious few, and forget the sharing of wisdom learned through much distress and hardship over many years. Perhaps what I have learned
is not important to anyone except myself, and the presumption that anyone would benefit is just illusory and born of the egoic
I have asked and asked for guidance. Perhaps the 'all that is' is shouting loudly in my deafened ears, but my egoic self is refusing to listen... I do not know. Perhaps this need for a sense of purpose is why young lads join the armed forces in the first place and find themselves killing other young lads drawn in by the same sense of needing to be part of something... to be of 'use'.
Perhaps this need is too deeply rooted in the human condition, and most of us are destined to never be able to simply 'Be'.
Why am I here?