Let the record show this is not the newest revelation on the meaning of life.
I’m talking to you today not as someone who’s discovered a new spin on living and wishes to share my wealth of insight.
As Obi Wan said, “this is not the droid you’re looking for.”
So if you’re looking for a life hack this ain’t it.
For those of you who choose to stick around how about I pour you all a cup of tea or coffee and let’s chat for a bit? I need each of you in our little group to understand something. You’re here because you read.
More important, you’re here because you write.
You write because you love to write or you’re driven to write, or you need to keep putting bread on the table.
Simply put, you write.
Writing is perhaps your passion, or your obsession or maybe it’s your vocation.
More than likely it’s your purpose.
From my perspective, writing should have been my higher calling, my purpose, because writing is who I am.
It defines me.
When my brain is in sync with the keys, or even a number two lead pencil and I’m cranking out words it’s a complete and total rush. I’m content in my element.
The problem with me (oh there are so many I’ve learned to stop counting) is that I’ve spent long periods of my life ignoring my purpose.
I started writing stories when I was twelve years old. Usually my creations were spawned by a book, or a comic I’d read or a television show I watched.
I wrote my own versions of army stories and freedom fighters in the trenches.
I reveled in stories about torpedo boats zipping across the oceans unleashing destruction on battleships five times their size.
I wrote because I believed in myself. I believed I could write stories everyone would read and love.
As a child my purpose held sway over me, instructing me to keep writing, keep telling stories.
But then I discovered other things to focus on, other ways of trying to achieve that darned elusive universal acceptance.
Those times when I should have been concentrating on my purpose and improving my writing step by glorious step, I continued to glance away and not look back.
I ignored my purpose.
I always told myself it was okay though. I had plenty of life to live and I could always go back to my purpose as I grew up.
And I did once in awhile.
There was that time I won that spelling bee. I studied hard to win it, reading and writing all the words in the spelling guidebook about a million and one times.
I learned new words, words I was dying to try out on a new set of stories.
So I cut a deal with my purpose and began to write again, but not for long.
The funny thing about courting your purpose then leaving it standing at the alter is once you do it, it becomes far too easy to do it again, and again.
And I did as I bungled my way through life.
I should have been concentrating on improving my purpose and getting better at it by writing, writing and more writing.
Instead, I did everything possible to stave off having to write.
When no one can see inside your head but you it’s really easy to make up excuses for not writing.
After all, dealing with my purpose was way too hard and aside from brief moments of mental gratification, my purpose wasn’t paying the bills or feeding my family.
The sad reality of it is, my purpose could have paid my bills and fed my family…had I not ignored it for so many years.
So here I sit on the downside of life’s pinnacle thinking as I’ve always thought.
Thinking there’s something out there better for me and I should be doing it. Knowing deep down this can’t be all there is for me. Telling myself each day this can’t be all I am.
Feeling hollow inside as I realize I was meant for something so much more.
Well, look at the time ya’ll.
We’ve all let our coffee and tea get cold. I’m willing to bet each of you need to get back to your writing. I myself have to start going through the motions of preparing for another grueling day at my side hustle.
What’s that? Yeah I hear you. I should practice what I preach right? I am. I’m writing now. Every single day, but I may have ignored my purpose far too many years to ever catch up.
Anyway, just think of me as that gut shot cowboy who knows he’s not long for the world.
Old gut shot has enough ammo to hold off the bad guys for a couple of minutes so all of you can escape.
I’m done fer, but you folks need to saddle up and skedaddle.
Again, thanks so much for stopping by.
Maybe we’ll chat over cups of tea and coffee and again. I’d really like that.
Until then remember this. Don’t be a dummy like me and ignore your purpose. Ever.
Let’s keep in touch: email@example.com
© P.G. Barnett 2019. All Rights Reserved.