I was going to blog today, then I found out that life has no meaning or purpose.
So, why bother?
I’m not so sure that we have no meaning or purpose other than what we bring to the table ourselves.
I think it may be that we have meaning and purpose, it’s just that we don’t like it and don’t accept it.
I mean, what would happen if you found out that your purpose in life was to take care of a certain blue eyed cat named Sinatra. That’s it. That’s why you are here. No grand scheme and no meta-importance, just a small thing. I think that is what we are really afraid to discover and, so, reject all meaning and purpose.
I have sometimes thought my only meaning and purpose was to provide a little DNA to a couple of human children with transformative powers and that I’d accomplished that and there was nothing worthwhile left to do. Later, I thought that the example of my sobriety brought others into sobriety and that maybe in doing so I was accomplishing some other meaning and purpose in my own life.
I long ago gave up the idea of myself as the indispensible man, Ozimandius and Ubermensch. My life is unlikely to be enshrined in a mural, my words won’t be etched in stone. Might I not still have some smaller purpose, some less grand meaning?
Maybe something a little better than cat owner, however, if you don’t mind.
blogblah!!!
What if our purpose isn’t to infiltrate? Or leave a mark? Or change or manipulate? What if it’s our job to observe? To appreciate? To have those moments where we allow ourselves to be wrapped up in everything that is coming in rather than put out anything at all?
Maybe everything we do put out there in the world is an investment in that moment where we are allowed to take in. Maybe it’s all cyclical. To imply a purpose is only half of the equation.
What’s the opposite of “purpose” anyway? Curiosity? Gratitude? I erally am asking because this seems to make some kind of sense.
Nothing is better that cat owner.