What Is the Point?

I think my relationship with my mother is better now. My relationship with the world at large is better, since I realized how/where I fit in it.

Several have commented that I seem happy, excited, since embracing the destiny that is this book project. Not the usual adjectives one would apply to me. But it makes utter sense. How can one not exude relief and joy at having finally found one’s unique purpose in life? I have a purpose! My life is not in vain as long as I live out that purpose. Why did it take so long to meld purpose with life? It is a question we might all ask if not answer, if fortunate enough to discover that purpose at all.

But I am mindful to incorporate the fact that my purpose is larger than me. It’s not just mine. Embracing one’s purpose is nothing more than a simple movement, a single action to push the door until momentum swings it wide. Then one’s purpose comes rushing out, unfettered by ego or fear or inhibitions. Releasing, what seems prematurely, the new-found, infantile purpose—
to rush past the gate of my tightly self-contained being, beyond my measured management of who I think I am—
to launch its own growth, is a life-affirming gift as it expands outside and beyond me.

While filling me up, the fulfillment of my purpose is not meant to serve me. It is my gift to give. But a gift that can flow through me only, and only after I allow it to.

This book is not my purpose in and of itself. The book is a vehicle with which to explore, express, and channel the gift of my unique purpose. A book is only one manifestation of purpose. However, it exemplifies the fact that I was meant to write. I was meant to write what comes to me as truth from a perspective that is uniquely mine. That is my purpose.

My perspective is a gift. My interpretation of my perspective is a gift. I can only trust that my words fulfill my calling. Their application to you is outside the scope of my purpose, but solely within yours. May the two meet in easy, fore-ordained recognition. May you accept my gift.

    • Ann C. Smith
    • April 24th, 2011

    Each of us tries to share from our own unique perspective. But that is so hard to do. Sometimes we truly meet; often we don’t. I try not to be sad about that.

      • Paula Robertson
      • April 24th, 2011

      As long as we do what is ours to do, the rest is out of our hands. I don’t find it that hard to do, but I do lament that others don’t get it (me) more often than they do.

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