Why am I here?
I sometimes hear that I came out of nothing, but that’s not entirely true. Actions, desire, events and opportunity created me. Nothing can come out of nothing, and when I leave, I will burn and rise so I can float through the air, merge with the soil underfoot, and line the insides of a worm. What was me will become world yet again. But right now I am here, warm and snug in this body, so I can use that energy to poke the movement of the universe in the direction my inner compass knows is right.
Is the universe kind?
We learn through experience; the experience of life, history, cause and effect. Through the ages we have moved our consciousness to the other end of the spectrum and enslaved, oppressed, and tortured not only our fellow humans and our fellow species, but also the mother that feeds and sustains us. Can any living being that knows the effects of this hateful behaviour doubt that the universe is kind? Kindness is not a flaw, not a weakness. It is the only way to be in this universe, the only consciousness that aligns with what is already there.
Is there a future for humanity?
Flocks of humans are competing for living space. Others are throwing explosives at eachother. Some hang their fellow humans for having deviating beliefs. Hope for humanity hangs by a spidery thread, ready to snap irrevocably at any moment. But look closer at that spider’s yarn. It is part of an intricate web, and when the sun’s rays hit after a cold and dewy morning, its glittering beauty can bring the hardest of us to our knees. There is also inexhaustible human goodness here. There are those among us who have reached far, far beyond their little own selves, then traded fear and hatred for found the courage, oneness and freedom we all seek. Martin Luther King. Thich Nhat Hanh. Harriet Tubman. Malala Yousafzai. Siddhartha Gautama.
Is there a God?
I don’t know, but I do know that there is a universe, and I get to create with it. I get to partake in its unfolding, choose how I perceive the world, pick kindness in my interactions with others, make a mark that will leave behind an imprint of love when I leave. If that aint extraordinary and magical, I don’t know what is.
What is the story of my life?
The story of ‘me’; a soul that long believed she was too sensitive for this world is ongoing. It begins to matter when I fully come into my own. When I stop feeding even crumbs to my hungry ego and when I shed the protective shell I wear when watched by another. My story is open ended, but it does have a final scene and a curtain. Every act matters.
Come on. Let’s step down from this stage Shakespeare called our world, use all the amazing efforts we put into acting and turn them into a force for good.