There is a flower: fragile, fair and full of sweet life.
And, underneath it, the soil, tainted by the waste of all dead things. The rocks around it, hiding the traces of anaerobic microorganisms from the bright air of aerobic moisture.
Here is the Sun, burning away its glory. The Moon steals its light. The wind chimes through the natural whistles of the dried waterways, while the lava eats its way up the dormant Vesuvius crust. The oceans press on the tectonic plates, while gently floating ships that tears through them. The sky breathes in the fumes of pollution that corrode it by the moment, while the stars continue to flicker and fade in distant galaxies, unexplored and out of man’s far reach.
The flower, the fire, the wasteful soil, the un-begrudging rock, the sun, the night, the wind, the water – they exist with purpose. The flower feeds the world with the fruit that ripens in its centre, the soil houses millions of burrowing organisms, and the rocks store forgotten minerals until someone remembers them again. The Sun spills essential light on all that is the Earth, the Moon calms minds as it agitates seas, the lava moves crusts while oceans flood earthquakes. The sky covers the habituated world, while stars in far galaxies splutter the last of their energies to sustain their own Planets Living.
Everything that ever existed had a purpose. Everything that exists has a purpose.
So, maybe, there is a huge probability that I, too, probably, exist because I have a purpose.
It may be too much to presume, that out of 7 billion, my singular purpose in life is to be a world leader who brings about world peace. Or an on-screen celebrity who inspires the hearts of millions of fanatics. Or even a knowledgeable guru who spreads ultimate, gate-opening wisdom to thousands with nothing more than a single phrase. My purpose may not be to become a politically radical rebel, nor may I be destined for the petty pleasures of multi-billionaire charity-donors. It may not be written in my future to become the best sportswoman nor the best journalist, reporter or photographer. I may not be the next Face of Asia, or represent the country in the United Nations. I may not grow up to become the leading authority in NASA, determining whether that speck is an ordinary comet or the prophesized Armageddon.
But yes, I exist because I have a purpose. Then, what is my purpose?
Is it that amazing event that props up as a culmination of all actions I have ever done in my entire life? Does it like being called my destiny? Will it reveal itself to me before I die? Or, is my purpose, like in Jewish scriptures, an unknown role played by an unknown person that constructs each trivially important part of the Grand Scheme? Is my purpose to be the best friend in the world? The best sibling or the best child? The best mother or grandmother? The best example for exemplary conduct? The paragon of hope?
Is my purpose to be the best person in the world? The first person to discover Merpeople? The first one to hold a record for laughing for days? The one who invents the best thing that ever happened to mankind? The best-est friend? The best sibling or the best child? The best mother or grandmother? The best example for exemplary conduct? The paragon of hope? The icon of something magical? The identity of all things that need to be brought into light? The voice of the speechless?
What would destiny make out of my interests? Will it take my book-worming skills and use it to spread a net of knowledge over the mass ignoramuses of the population? Will it twist my expressions to make a person cry out a complex they need to break, or give them motivation? Will it take my fresh ideas out of my head and use it to create a hand hold over the world’s people? Will it make me the best artist, the best imaginator, the best speaker? Will it give me enough ESPs to sense the Apocalypse? Will it replace the fortune-telling octopus with me, instead? Will it make me the next greatest phenomenon after Albert Einstein and Jesus Christ? The biggest superhero after Batman and Superman? Will it make me the greatest strategist after Krishna and Chanakya?
Will I light up the eyes of the ones I love by just flicking my fingers and smiling my smile? Will I be the greatest magician after Merlin? Will I be the first one to throw up seeds of happiness in the air for all those who need it? Will I become the second female Buddha? Will I become the found legacy of the lost Atlantis, and change the world for the better? Will I be the first to extinguish technology and squash it out of this world to give a chance for Nature to live? Will I become great? Will I make or change history?
Will I, will I, will I?
My purpose – what’s it doing in my life? Is it to travel on a journey that brings Utopia to life and repeats H. G. Wells? Is it to become a human hybrid, a mad scientist, a forgotten angel? Is it to bedazzle the world, or to blot it? Is it hidden in my passions, or tucked into my dreams? Is it that glowering line of happiness that makes my family smile in pride, or that smirk in my friend’s face? Is it calmness the sunset pushes around me, or is it that flash of realization that crosses my mind when I look at something and end up seeing it?
I live, I breathe, I walk, talk and interact because I have a purpose. I draw, I sketch, I fill colors because I have a purpose. I laugh, I love, I dream because I have a purpose. I design logos, illustrate images, manipulate photos because I have a purpose. I dance, I sing, I write because I have a purpose.
My purpose – is it to make others understand the beauty of lines and curves? Is it to show some tens or hundreds how much I love God? Is it to create art that no one can ever imagine, repeat or take their off of? Is it to travel worlds that exist between reality and fantasy? Is it to paint bridges from one’s dreams to waking world? Is it to find true love, or is it to lose truth and find only love? Is it to learn and teach to accept everyone, or is it to become an epic whose name is forever etched into the ruined, graffiti-ed walls of history? Is it to release magic into people’s lives, or help them create it? Is it to become a universal symbol of peace, integrity and care?
Is it this –
Is it that?
I am too young to know my purpose, but too old to not know it is the reason for my existence. One day, I will come to know of – once I fulfill it, or before, or during. But for now, this alone is the bliss I have always needed.
I am not another unwanted life that survives in this world because she has to. I am not the eggplant that adds but taste while it lives its short life, but the carrot that works up your eyes to make you see better. The sharp incense that makes you smell better, the gentle hum that attunes your ears better, and the soft caress that makes you feel better. I have a role in this world, a place to enact my version of events to add to the greater good, a set of words to be refined through for the greater knowledge, a cache of dreams.
I have something better to live for than a bunch of poor excuses in the names of hopeful romances, wistful pleasures and breathy escapades.
I live for me. I believe in me. I have my purpose.
- Maitri Harys
