7th Post - THE PURPOSE OF MY LIFE

I've never known what the purpose of my life is.

It seems so unusual for me to have very little idea about the purpose of my life, even now, when I'm in my 60s.

But this morning, I have NPR playing on my iPhone.  A person explained that he became ill, and while ill, he was afforded the opportunity of writing (in his case, music).  This is a thought I've had several times about me:  I've wondered if I might be motivated to write more and better, if I didn't have the distractions of a usual life to pull me away from writing.

I've often thought I'm a natural writer.  But perhaps it's only that I'm a careful writer, since I grew up learning foreign languages.  In the case of Spanish, I never wrote it.  But with German and French, I was required to write it, and to write it correctly.  This spilled back into English, and therefore I tend to write correctly, even if it's in a blog that no one else is likely to read.

Also, I was prompted for some reason to wonder about the "limitless possibilities" of our universe.

For every star, there is possibly a possibility of exploration, and the number seems endless, or at least countless.

But according to Bill Bryson (author of "A Short History of Just About Everything," which I have listened to at least 6 times over the last several months), it would be impossible for us (i.e., Earthlings) to travel to the end of our Universe, let alone wherever places there might be beyond that "end."

Not, at least, at the speeds we have thus far attained, and during a usual lifetime of 80 years.

Not, at least, without some new time travel technology which does not appear to be possible.

Not, at least, if things stay the same as they are today.

We are apparently very alone in our Universe.

Naturally, therefore, it could be said that based on the above (I know, I'm using endless qualifiers....but that's me.), the purpose of our lives (my life) must be defined by those limitations.

MCG (my creator god) seems to want me to direct my attentions HERE (on Earth, and maybe even inside me), and not THERE (outer space).

It's tough for me to describe any limitations at all.  Because I'm filled with "what ifs."  What if we COULD find a way to get to another Universe with another planet like Earth.  THEN what would be the purpose of my life?

But as long as it SEEMS unlikely, perhaps my purpose is, in fact limited to THIS Universe, to THIS Solar System, to THIS Earth, to THIS Dimension, to THIS sphere of experience, to THIS body, to THIS mind, to THESE memory cells, to THESE atoms, and to anything else there might be on a continuingly inward trek.

Whew.

So then, once I've defined my atoms (perhaps), I realize once again that I am one being among billions, and quickly any high and glorious purpose of my life becomes diluted.

Unless, of course, every other being is a hologram (I used to call them all "paintings") designed to further my purpose.  In that case, I and MCG and my life purpose ARE "high and glorious," since we are the ONLY beings involved in whatever this "process" might be.

*sigh*

I'm caught up again in all the trappings of what ifs, and perhapses, and possibilities.  And that distracts and distorts my thinking about what, to put it as simply as I can, the PURPOSE OF MY LIFE really is.

*sigh* again.

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I came back to edit/add to my earlier musings (shown above, and left unedited)

Saturday morning, which this is, lends itself to additional musings, although I don't really know why it should, since I'm not obligated to be anywhere (such as a job or a church service) on any other morning.

But thoughts flood my brain (or SEEM to flood), and that in itself is a bit frustrating, since I don't have any way of capturing them and sorting them out and writing them down (if only for my own sake)..... so I have to make my way through the minutes of my writing/blog time, and try to recapture my important thoughts.

BTW, I'm also multi-tasking right now:  Listening to NPR on my iPhone, and eating a sort of decadent breakfast (waffles with butter & syrup, under non-fat yogurt and frozen blueberries, 1/2 an orange, all washed down by water), all the time keeping an eye on my AOL IM indicators, in case Robert (Trebor) of Denver should pop up.

On NPR, they're interviewing a Spanish singer/song writer/poet who claims that "just now," she is emerging from the longest night of her life, which night has lasted her whole life.  This and many other artists interviewed on NPR seems to be all about themselves.

This particular one says that she doesn't care if she sells only ONE record..... or a million.  "MON OEIL."  She is black, born in Spain, and a kind of gypsie.  Now she's moved to Miami, and THAT is telling.  People move to America to enjoy a better life, a freer life.  And yet she says she does not have a sense of her purpose in life.

Hmmmmmm, I don't necessarily buy it.

She sounds like a black African woman singing Spanish music.

She at least has a passion.  Unlike me.

Am I FIGHTING having a passion, so that I can say that I don't have one?

Yesterday, I met with a good friend Marty M, who is a therapist.  He helped me at lot, at least it felt like that during our 1-2 hour lunch in Century City (Seasons 52 restaurant).

Dilemma:  If I were to attempt to review my meeting with Marty, I know I'd get caught up in the details, perhaps becoming over-analytical, at the possible expense of focusing on the key core issues we discussed.  So I don't want to even attempt it.

OTOH, if I DO NOT attempt to summarize & account for my Marty M meeting yesterday, I will likely "forget" (temporarily leave out of my conscious awareness) some or maybe even all of the key core issues.

Key core issues.  Hmmmmmm.

NPR is discussing panspermia (i.e., we come from out of space), and the host asked what of a being a being who wonders what its purpose is.

Hmmmmmmm, again.

Meanwhile, let's go to a play and enjoy a movie.  Last night, I saw "The World's End" with Andy Sacher.  Then I went back to the TomKat theater and watched several other movies - all porn, and all titillating, yet unfulfilling.  I didn't watch any of the 10 or so films there from beginning to end, having been "distracted" by the other "theatre patrons" who were there for sex, or at least to watch other people having sex.

In the wake of my Marty M meeting at lunch yesterday, I felt like I could go to the TomKat theater, and indulge in some guilt-free wanton sex.  I didn't feel guilty being there.  I went BEFORE meeting Andy for dinner/movie, and I went back AFTERwards, staying at the TomKat until past 1AM.