A little more than a year ago, included in one of the poems being
written at the time, is a verse that conveys a question I had about the
subject of worth. After some reflection, what I realized is that
significance and worthiness are concepts that interfere with my
understanding of purpose.
Although our society and our physical needs require that people work or
labor in order to provide for themselves and one another, it is not the
work that has the significance. An epiphany of sorts was my realizing
that my purpose is not to work. The reason for my creation and subsequent survival
was never about having a job.
My purpose is to be exactly what I am best capable of being and making sure this being is
available when it matters.
This capability can and is often developed
through work, but work is the tool and not the objective.
This is liberating because having identified with my job or my family for so
long, to discover that they are not what defines me but rather what
reflects an expression of me that is sometimes not what I would prefer.
Instead of assuming it is *me* that has failed when something takes my
work away or my family is disrupted, I have begun to understand that
they reflect, only. an expression of me and that what matters is that no
matter what else I do or associate myself with, they are peripheral to
my purpose which is to continue becoming more of who I was born to be.
I have certain characteristics that are uniquely my own, just as every
human being does. They, as well, do not identify me, but lead me towards
successfully discovering that identity.
In the end, I am not a worker, or a mother, or wife, or a friend, or a citizen
or a ‘good’, ‘bad’, ‘smart’, ‘dishonest’, or ‘truthful’ person.
In the end, I am simply, I am instead of I am not.
As long as I am and not I am not, I am continues towards its final answer.
It is significant that we each exist, right now, to do the very next thing we are called to do.
Whatever we do in the background is more or less useful or pleasant while passing the
time but isn’t what is most important.
Since I don’t have a readership, interpreting my own poetry is left to me if
it is considered, at all, and often, I’m as clueless as anyone else might be about
what it means. This poem being no different.
It was the final thought regarding what matters that I couldn’t let go without