People both crave and reject, seek and hide from, work and slack on, and love and hate them, depending on their plethora of moods, situations, company kept, perceptions, physical well-being, along with a whole cluster of other flexibly adjustable human "settings". And on top of this, I'd wager that most of us, at some point in our lives have asked the internal question: "Why am I here?".
What a self-setup! Like, really. "Hey, I have a few minutes to ponder. A question which I can't possibly truly answer with 100% certainty within a thousand millennia seems about right at this moment."
Consider the sheer number of possibilities. What results if we fail? If we succeed? What if failure or success are guaranteed? How can it be done? How much time will it take? On a scale of 1 to 10, how does it line up in life? What collateral is leveraged? What is to be gained? Can they be inherited from others? Can it be passed off? SHOULD it? Should it be paused to pick up later? Will it fade over time? Will it hurt me or others? Causes and effects? What will it change? Are changes wanted or needed? Should it be cherished? What happens when it's no longer possessed? How many can we have? Is there a minimum? What happens if we have too many? Too Few? I wonder if the world's best computer could calculate it.
Gambling has better odds of happiness stacked up to that. How many chips have you got to wager? Throw a little tensing in there for a bit of spice, as past connects with present, and present with future, as do the purposes that go with them, and it's all enough to send a frail-hearted thinker right on over the edge! "SNAKE EYES"
This writer poses the challenge: Why must we require purpose? Or, must we?
I lean toward the idea that living IS the purpose. I don't need to grapple with it. Without that flexibility, I don't think I could function. To spin the scenarios countlessly in my head is unthinkable when I should be looking up at the stars, creating something, breathing cool mountain air, discovering, caring for loved ones, simply lazing on the couch, eating chips and watching TV, getting brain-freeze, laughing with others, warming by the fire, helping the needy, supporting a friends, teaching, learning or anything that might call to me. In fact, while scrambling purposes around in my noggin, I could actually miss that call.
Those who commit to purpose and their roles within it are often bonded with it at the identity level, essentially becoming the purpose, and then, when the purpose is gone, are left with a void feeling of utter grief for which there just seems to be no cure. They mourn for the days gone by, are at a loss by what the very real and present day offers, and wish for a time when they can again take their place and resume their duties, all simultaneously. A tall order for the strongest among us, to be sure. But being the strongest isn't a requirement to recover. Merely a whisper of will can build us back a little or a lot at a time.
The following is easier said than done, for certain, but I'm not so much concerned with purpose, these days. I'm human and I am able to adapt, and overcome. It doesn't diminish what has been, what is, or what will come should I recover some semblance of living better. These values come from within me. If my committed role in a given situation changes, I am reminded that control is an illusion in many respects, and so I live through it and try to smile. That's the bare minimum I can do, for me. But that's not the best I can do, either.