I’m thinking of going to see a psychic. Not one of those voodoo Miss Cleo types with a fake island lip curl. But one that works just down yonder in the Concord area, and whom everyone swears by. Is it the time of year? The particular time in my life? Or am I just plain crazy and ungrateful? ( Or some combination of the three? ) Life purpose has always been foremost in my thoughts, and now is no different. But to tell you the truth, I just feel plain lost right now. Like I have no purpose. That I’m not living up to my potential. That I’m not fulfilling the mission I was brought into this world to carry out. I always thought I knew my Purpose, and the road I was to travel down. But it seems I’ve lost my way. Or maybe I’ve just lost faith. Lately, most of my mental energy is spent puzzling my unique reason for Being. I can’t speak for the billions of other folks in the world, but I do wonder just how many ponder their Purpose. Certainly I’ve been told by some close to me that I’m just wasting my time with my mind’s wanderings and ruminations. That I’m selfish for wanting more than what I’ve got. ( If only I could shut IT off….) I’m not sure whom I got the philosophical gene from, but it’s always causing problems–taking the lead and bullying the more practical DNA that’s coiled inside somewhere, dormant and unexpressed. I’ve got a good job with excellent benes ( the 6 weeks of vacation being the oversized cherry on top of the employment sundae ), bought a new car back in December, and I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. And yes, I have health insurance. By all accounts, I am lucky. I like my job. I know I’m lucky to like my job. But what about the love? What about the passion? Assisting folks with computer problems and taming pesky classroom projectors, and experiencing the thankfulness of those I’ve helped does make me feel good on occasion. But honestly? It doesn’t make my heart pound. My eyes don’t blaze like Roman candles as I rush off to change a projector bulb that’s burnt out. There is something missing. A deeper something. At 5PM each workday, I ask myself: Is this what I am meant to do? Am I selfish for wanting more than what I’ve got?
In The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling, the Jungian James Hillman engages the reader in a most enchanting discussion on life purpose and destiny. It is mythological and epic. By examining the “signal moments” that occur early on in a person’s life, he posits that one can locate that life’s trajectory. ”There is more in a human life than our theories of it allow,” he writes. ”Sooner or later something seems to call us onto a particular path. You may remember this ‘something’ as a signal moment in childhood when an urge out of nowhere, a fascination, a peculiar turn of events struck like an annunciation: This is what I must do, this is what I’ve got to have. This is who I am. ” Confused? Don’t be…..It’s Beautiful! And I sort of remember my own signal moment. Obviously the passage of time requires me to employ a bit of poetic license but the core of my tale rings true…… 
“I want to read!”. The book was dusty and mildewed, and it was almost as big as me. As I squished my purple-overalled, 4-year old self next to my aunt on the couch, I demanded that she teach me. She tried her best to explain that I needed to learn letter sounds before I could read a book like the one I thrust at her, but I was not taking her no for an answer. And I was not interested in Green Eggs and Ham. I wanted to know the secrets in the big book that stretched across our laps. Its small, dense black print contained mysteries–I was sure of it. With every no my aunt uttered, I pounded the meaningless ink with my little brown fists and pointed my insistently curious finger: “THAT! I want to know THAT!”
Stubborn. Committed to my mission of words. Always wanting to know what and why. Nothing has changed much in how I approach the world, even though so many years have passed since that initial demand. But I’ll be honest in that, while I know that demand to read is My Moment…the one that I am supposed to look to for my direction….I have become wobbly and unfocused. I HAVE LOST FAITH. Yes. I’ll just admit it. Analysis after analysis, year after year, I thought I was to dwell within higher education. That I should get my Ph.D. That I should teach. Do research. But now? As much as my heart aches, the financial times don’t make it easy to continue on the grad school path. They even render the mere thought of the endeavor silly and fool-hearted. But what does a person do when she knows that is the life she is supposed to live? Everything else pales in comparison. To That, I always return. Despite the impracticality. Despite the debt that would result. Something has to give. But what? I turn to Mary Oliver, who is as good a guide as any,”Striding Deeper Into the World”–looking for signs and omens; calling out for my courage; trying to figure out this Purpose-thing……..
One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice– though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left the voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do– determined to save the only life you could save.
