Purpose

What the fuck is a purpose?

I had dinner with a friend last night. He is an old friend. I use the word ‘old’ both in the sense that I have known him for a long time, but also to convey the fact that he is further along his timeline than I am. He is advanced in many ways, including chronologically. He is, in his own words, “an old cunt.”

He lives with his dog.

I meet him once a month for dinner.

He has done many remarkable things in his life. His impact on the world won’t be measured in terms of wealth or fame, but his influence on a small number of its inhabitants has been immense. I am fortunate to be one of those.

Last night my standard catch-up question, “So what’s been happening?” was answered with, “Nothing. My life is boring.”

My friend then corrected himself. “Actually, I don’t mean boring. My life is mundane. I have no purpose, other than to look after my dog.”

Yesterday I put a small body of work out into the world. By that lofty-sounding description, what I mean is I posted some stuff that I’ve been working on to a miniscule corner of the internet where nobody will find it and where it will languish for as long as the domain subscription is paid. I told only one person about it – the minimum possible number that I can. If I tell no-one then it doesn’t really count as ‘putting it out’.

I have no idea why I chose to do that. No real idea why, having worked on this thing for a while, I found it necessary to publish it anywhere. I could have simply kept the thing to myself.

For quite a few years now I’ve been struggling with a lack of purpose. My focus for much of my life has been the accumulation enough to sustain myself and my family. That was achieved around a decade ago and since then I have filled my time – sometimes productively, sometimes altruistically, sometimes pointlessly – with a buffet of ‘activities’.

The saying goes that, “The Devil makes work for idle hands.” One side effect of my idle hands has been the creation of things like this! Musings (more accurately, wafflings) on subjects that cross my path.

So maybe my choice to publish my work – albeit in such a minimalist fashion – is a way of trying to find some purpose? To make the time that I have ‘count’ for something? A cry for relevance?

But what the fuck is a purpose? What does it mean to have a purpose? What actually counts as a purpose? And who gets to say what types of purpose are ‘valid’?

Purpose implies agency. It implies choice. It requires deliberation. When we do something deliberately we do it ‘on purpose’ – the key word being ‘on’.

Yet purpose doesn’t have to be lofty or world-changing to be valid. To a person close to death the act of getting through another day is a valid purpose. Caring for someone or something you love is a hugely important purpose. Sharing your wisdom and friendship over dinner every month with people who enjoy your company and who value your guidance is a worthy purpose.

It is a valid purpose simply “to be”.

To experience this one existence, purely for its own sake.

Just to be able to say, “I have lived.”

See you next month, you old cunt.

And remember that none of us live long enough to see where the ripples go. How far out to sea they reach. The ways in which they impact others. The ways in which they change the world.