My life does not have a purpose.

\”Spirit Flower,\” you say, \”How can you say that? Jesus tells you what your purpose is in ACIM. AA tells you what your primary purpose is. When you were in the church, it told you what your purpose is.\”

But, these purposes come from the outside. I have not yet touched the place inside which will make it clear.

I sit quietly and pray, \”God….(long deep breaths)….I offer myself to you….(long deep breaths)….may I at last utterly abandon myself to You….\” I spend hours at this. I don\’t sit properly like a Buddhist or Hindu; my chakra\’s are not straight. The important point is that I seek inner silence.

I allow my life to be seemingly purposeless. Having a purpose in societal programming. Leaving a legacy is arrogance; yet we are programmed to leave a legacy. I allow myself to feel useless and not pursue usefulness. When I go to work in the morning, it is just to earn money. It is not a ministry and I am not trying to save the planet.

I am not that different than many people; except for I don\’t cover over this impoverished state of affairs. I don\’t watch TV and ignore it. I don\’t go to dinner and pretend like everything is ok. I don\’t get drunk, take drugs or have sex. I don\’t go shopping and forget my poverty by covering my body with scraps of attractive clothing. I don\’t have a religious profession or monastic family so I can cover my poverty with service to the church. I don\’t get called in to save anyone\’s life and prove my worth. I sit alone in my house and face the fact: my life doesn\’t mean anything. I am poor. I have nothing to show for myself. I\’ll die and no one will care.

I intentionally sought this poverty. I did this to myself. I consciously rejected everything that other people thought was good.

What freedom and joy I find in this poverty.


This Blog Reality

This place right here, this blog, is an awesome place to be. I am alone; an ego talking to itself. I am with my God; an existence in communion with the Universe. What could be more wonderful? Here, I don\’t have to worry about being judged: so what if I didn\’t interpret the meaning of a Text correctly. Here, I cannot judge: no one else is here. Here, I can freely muse and pray. Here I am free: able to release conditioning and programming and be what I really am.

I am not a girl or a boy. I am not a friend or spouse or enemy or daliance. I am neither rich nor poor. I am not of any race. I have no religion. I think I am human, but I do not know what that is. I have words and a language. I have a history: look there is a long scar on my right arm. I do not know what that means or what having a body means.

But I have mentioned \”my God.\” It is this idea which needs to be probed. Is it my knowledge? Is it memory? Is it wishful thinking? Is it the last vestage of society\’s programming? Here…it is possible I was never born and can dismiss what I see and say. I can dismiss it and just be silent and still.


I am wandering in a corridor of time. The corridor has various rooms which can be entered. When I was younger, I went into various rooms. Some were called \”successful career,\” \”Harley Davidson,\” \”monastery,\” \”somebody\’s girlfriend,\” or \”be somebody.\” Many people go in these rooms, find they like them and stay there. I never became satisfied with any of these rooms. Now I view them as forms of unconsciousness, mind-numbing entertainment. Now I view unconsciousness as a hinderance or a jail for growth of the mind.

But, if you refuse these rooms of entertainment, you are left with a corridor of nothing. I am not involved in anything. Sure, I go to work everyday and have a few other activities; but my time is often spent staring at nothing. I listen to silence. I don\’t relieve boredom by shopping, eating, reading, talking on the phone, TV or even internet surfing. I just let the time go by with as empty a mind as possible. Time goes past. I have ceased accomplishing anything.

I have reached the heights of human experience. This is it: nothing, silence, waiting, wandering an endless corridor of sameness. No one knows what love is.

I am not bound to the world. What a remarkable thing that is. Yet, I do not know what I am. I cannot translate the condition of freedom into words (as yet).