The purposeless life

Lately, my life has been a bit slower and quieter than I'm used to. There's new space in my day to day that wasn't there before and I've tried my best to let it be and see what happens. Holy shit, it is not easy.

Let's just say that I'm not the best at letting things go. I like—okay, I love—order and check lists and knowing that I'm getting something done every day. I want to think that it's less about having a sense of control and more this incessant need to be productive and feel like I'm perhaps creating some sliver of meaning in the world.

But really, what is there to create? Taking a step back, I see how self-centered that idea is. Who am I to contribute to everything that already is?

So instead of trying to fill the space like I always do, I'm sitting in it. And gently, with little agenda or expectation, feeling that effect it has. Noticing how badly I want to jump up and fill it. And you know what? Slowly, very very slowly, that urgency to move and do begins to fade a bit. And in it's place? Truthfully, I'm not sure how to describe it. But isn't that the point of it all?

I think back to some wise words from Alan Watts:

“Paradoxical as it may seem, the purposeful life has no content, no point. It hurries on and on, and misses everything. Not hurrying, the purposeless life misses nothing, for it is only when there is no goal and no rush that the human senses are fully open to receive the world.” 

The purposeless life. It doesn't project the hope and shiny inspiration I'm normally drawn to. But in this newly found space that's there, well, it merely is. And I am. And you are. And for right now, that is enough.