...On Recovering One's Sense of Purpose...
Of late I've been walking around as something of opiated and blood-thinned cardiac patient, my heart having been broken for a myriad of reasons, in the last few months it has often lacked rhythm, resources, and even rectitude. These last thirty-six hours have been particularly trying, beginning with clumsiness which resulted in a broken toe's dashing of this summer's triathlon dreams, and ending with painful but honest words from a love which sadly took a wrong turn and culminated in a puncture wound from which the twisted blade in my back is likely still dangling.
So I have been crying and, as per usual, wishing that I didn't exist, and occasionally rising from my teary lump on the couch to change West Wing DVDs, the roller-coaster of which has alternately magnified my gut-wrenching sobs or transformed my despair to tears of joy. I do not know that I can justifiably explain with my own inadequate words the gamut of emotions encompassed by that show, but there is something there about honesty, integrity, purpose, compassion, and choosing to ally oneself with right devotions, those things which are undeniably good and pure and which matter more than one's individual needs - hence their well-earned place among those things for which one should spend their life.
Today has again reminded me that men are broken, corruptible creatures, no mortal of which is deserving of my service or adoration. I believe this is true globally, as well as specifically, and thus we are left to ponder our lives in search of that which is worthy of such devotion. What is good and right and true beyond all doubt? Why are we biologically programmed to join up and belong, despite the same biological nature declaring those with whom we are surrounded to be fallible? Why do we keep trying despite the common experience of humanity from time immemmorable yielding no empirical evidence that something better might be attained? Why do we hope?
I do not know, but I shall leave any of my dear readers whom have stuck with me traversing this existential muck with a quote from said same show:
We live in cynical times, but hope is not up for debate.
As attractive as acquiescence might appear, we have been pre-programmed to persist in fighting the good fight, for it is the only fight worth fighting.