We’re not always at our best. I should speak for myself, I suppose, but I like to think I’m not alone.
We get busy, we get tired and we get sick. We. Get. Swamped.
But, for some reason, we plod on. Why? Perpetual responsibility looms, but we can skirt it. Obligation drags us out the door, but we know we can avoid it. We can hide from those things for a day or two. Heck, some people manage to hole up a lifetime shirking the albatrosses of society.
Nope. Although we bear those crosses, they are not why we get out of bed every day.
The mover, the maker, the motivator and shaker is purpose. Purpose comes home, slumps into a chair and says; “I’m rusty. Anoint me.” Oil it and it’ll stay.
We can direct it. We can twist it. We can stretch it to the ends of the earth. It’s ours to dress in cute little hats. We own it.
Its varieties are infinite; a drive to stand on top of the corporate world, an itch to ‘pwn’ domesticity (go figure), a stubborn bug to travel from country to country, a will to be a fighter pilot or an itch to be…oh, I don’t know…the greatest writer there ever was. Ring a bell?
No matter what it is, whatever it may be that floats our boats and has us hanging on (if only by a slowly tearing page) our individual purpose which, by the way, magically translates into passion, is what keeps us going when the chips are down.
No, we may not always be at our best, but when purpose knocks, wet its whistle and you can’t ever be at your worst.
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