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The Point

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Started feeling a little funky last night—sort of bored and aimless. Normally when I feel that way, I make some kind of bid for connection by offering my mate a backrub or starting a conversation. Since we broke up a month ago, those strategies are no longer options. So I stretched and danced instead.

Which was very nice, but I still woke up with a vague feeling of If I don’t have something useful to do, then, well, what am I doing here? “Here” meaning in this human body. (Don’t be alarmed, it’s not a suicidal thought! I’m way too wimpy for that kind of thing. It was just a general musing.)

So in my half awake/half asleep state as the sun was rising, I tried to access a purpose for my life. The most amusing one I came up with was to produce carbon dioxide (it was amusing to me, anyway.) I also considered that maybe there is no purpose. Or maybe I’m just a sensory organ for the Divine Oneness and It’s not uptight about what kind of feedback my little neuron of a self sends back to the mothership—any old sensation is better than none. But I really didn’t have much luck coming up with anything other than those.

Then I got up and checked email, and true to form lately, my answer came right on the heels of my question. Today’s daily quote from

Mining the moment for something that feels good, something to appreciate, something to savor, something to take in, that’s what your moments are about. They’re not about justifying your existence. It’s justified. You exist. It’s not about proving your worthiness. It’s done. You’re worthy. It’s not about achieving success. You never get it done. It’s about “How much can this moment deliver to me?” And some of you like them fast, some of you like them slow. No one’s taking score. You get to choose.

Seems to weigh in favor of my hypothesis that we are God’s hands, the instruments by which the Universal Mind gets to manipulate the clay of physical reality, and to feel the sensory pleasure of incarnation.

So if this is indeed the case, I am achieving my purpose when I enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face. I am achieving my purpose when I wiggle my toes and feel them actually respond with movement. I am doing what I came to do when I savor the sharpness of the cool morning air entering my lungs while my skin is warm under layers of blankets.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that those things are really enough. But other times, I wonder what else could possibly be more important.


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