As I finished my morning run, my head tilts straight up to the sky, the pale blue welcoming me in its embrace. The air smells ripe and the rhythm of my own breath comforts me. My eyes searches the sky again and the blue swallows me with its clarity. My mind is quiet, intrusions are a shadow, following but unable to absorb into my body. A fresh day has begun, the start of routines, showering, dressing, packing lunches,washing dishes and other banalities of this existence postponed for a second.
I take solace from this moment. It is quick, and I am aware when it passes. My mind is running, sprinting toward unanswered questions. My whole body sighs, the weight of what I am thinking burdens my limbs.
I want to strive for another story, just for today. I’ve always been intense, contemplating the meaning of my own actions, my path in this life, and what I am meant to get out of it. I realize it is such a cliche, “finding purpose”, but isn’t that all we want in the end? We want to be salvaged from regret, even though it yells at us daily. It’s in the choices we make, wondering if the cobblestones that we lay on the ground will carve out more than a dead end.
In my own life, I am an active participant in routines and the mundane. The endless cycle of chores occupy my space and like morse code, I am hit with the message, “Is this what it is all about?” I convince myself the ordinary moments are what drive most of us forward, but I can’t help but think there must be something more.
For now, I will have to settle for that one second in the morning, hoping that in the future, the blue sky will be something more than a brief flicker.
How do you define your own purpose? Is it something that alludes you? Is purpose something that shapes your daily life? How often do you think about your own life’s purpose?