Do Not Talk to Me About Getting On Purpose
I have heard enough
She was roused out of bed again. It was 2:21 am by the numbers on the clock and she was not in the slightest bit amused.
She needed her sleep; it would be insanity to continue like this but there was a pull that was beckoning the computer.
What was she being asked to write when other sane humans were enjoyed their REM sleep?
She placed the pillow over her head and groaned, “I did not sign up for this,” she muttered into the darkness. “I wanted cherry cheesecake and wine and fun and laughter not plugging away at a tired laptop at a time like this.”
She knew she had two choices — either to get up or to get up now. She decided on the getting up now since time had taught her that to obey was better than sacrifice.
She cringed and groaned again. She was sounding like her mother, sprouting proverbs….. “a stitch in time saves nine…better now than later…time waits on no man”.
What is this thing with time anyway? What has created so great a time consciousness in us that we spend so much time wasting time in order to save time?
She had no answer.
It was time for her to get moving, they said.
She had spent almost a half-century on this earth doing what she wanted to do and now it was time for her to get on her soul purpose. Soul purpose?
She was definitely not feeling soul purposed at 3:00 am. What is the big deal with soul purpose anyway? Why does everyone think that the soul should have a purpose and a life without purpose is a life wasted? Was that another proverb or quote from wise parents or an even wiser society stuffed with status quos, measurements, and oughts?
What is ought anyway? It sounded a lot like nought and as far as she knew, nought is empty, unfilled, unoccupied. Nought was futile, pointless, and purposeless. There was that word again. That ‘P” word. Oh yes
Oh, yes, she needed to p and have a drink of water before she sat.
Her guides were amused. They saw the human in her coming out and they loved her for it. They got to experience humanning through her and every foible and every success was theirs for the enjoyment.
If she only knew that she would be ranting and raging and demanding to know — hands akimbo, if her living was a game that the universe was playing and the only ones enjoying the movements on the board was them.
A loud yawn and a long stretch meant that she was getting up. Her guides were pleased.
She was on purpose.
Thanks for reading my story. I have quite a few more on Medium, just click here, or better yet, see below a story that has links to all that were CfFD’ed under different topics ranging from spirituality to sexuality.
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