Until Death...

A man without a purpose for his life wanders. A man who believes he has a purpose but does not know how to pursue it procrastinates.

Perhaps not every man. But at least me.

Wasn’t it supposed to be easier? Find something you love to do, then simply do it, and eventually do it well enough to live off of?

I no longer believe it to be as simple for most people. There are the fortunate few who strike it rich doing what they love, and then there are the rest of us.

I can’t imagine doing anything other but thinking and exploring and then writing about it, but I can’t imagine how to put something together in finished form or make a living from it… I’ve tried hard over the last ten years and have not yet succeeded, and now I feel adrift and resigned to never accomplishing anything of value.

That struggle with feelings of futility has taught me something, though – or at least given me a hunch.

What it has come down to is this: People do what they love because they love it, and they sense purpose in it. They do it without regard to the outcome. They do it without regard to success. They simply do it, even if they have no large end goal in mind, and even if they expect it to fail.

They simply do it.

I can’t afford to let the lack of a big picture or of a large goal or of some clear strategy of success impede my desire to write. It’s like marriage: I’m in it up to my scalp, saying my “I do’s” up front without knowledge of how the future will turn out. I have to commit to working at it even when it’s not going well or the future looks bleak.

I don’t like it. It still feels hopeless. But else am I to do? If I don’t do this, I will do nothing at all, for there is nothing else that I could and would want to do.