More specifically, having a purpose in life.
|Hummingbird babies learning to eat. How stinking cute is this?? (Source)|
Then there's the lady who races all over the state of Nevada, tracking wild mustangs to make sure they are treated humanely. The ranchers don't like her much because they don't like the mustangs. They think government land is only for their private livestock to graze on, and they don't want the mustangs noshing on it.
So this brave woman makes no bones about standing up to the ranchers and the government and anyone else who is mistreating the horses. It seems to be her whole life's purpose.
And there I sat with my McDonald's coffee (that my husband went and got for me), reading the paper and snapping pictures of my cat for Instagram.
I get excited when I clean off my desk or get a blog post up. Or when a new episode of Better Call Saul is on.
I haven't saved hummingbirds or horses or anything else. Well, maybe saved a few dogs from an unknown fate... but I don't think that's quite the same thing.
So I wondered: Is my life not purposeful if I don't have a purpose?
And didn't I sound like Carrie Bradshaw just then? "I couldn't help but wonder..."
|I couldn't help but wonder... Are all men freaks? (giphy.com)|
But the kids are all grown up, so how am I purposeful now?
Cleaned my office, took the dogs to the park with the hubs, made dinner, came back to my desk to finish this post... and still thinking.
I got nothin'.
Well... nothing more than the ordinary everyday things, like taking care of my dogs and husband. or helping my family and grown kids when they need it.
I make my boss's life easier and am pretty good at making customers happy.
I would help out our neighbors, if they would ask me. They pretty much stay clear of us though, as you know.
Sometimes I give bags of food to homeless people. The hubs doesn't like when I do that because I could be enabling a drug addict, and I know that's true, but I can't help myself.
I let people go in front of me in traffic and at the grocery store.
I smile at strangers.
I told a girl at the bank she was stunningly beautiful last Saturday and she said it made her day.
I volunteered at a homeless women's shelter for a few months once. I served food in the cafeteria.
They were surprisingly picky eaters.
They would often comment that the food was better across the street at St. Vincent's. They got miffed when I rationed out the ranch dressing so there would be enough for everyone.
|Oh no you didn't just bogart the ranch dressing! (giphy.com)|
So what's my point here? I don't really know.
Maybe it's what Einstein said (or what's been attributed to Einstein - there's actually no proof he said this):
That's all well and good, but clearly... there's room for improvement.
So I'm going to
As long as it doesn't take too much time because I have silly posts like this to write and T.V. shows to watch and, you know... stuff to do.
P.S. No hummingbirds or horses were harmed in the writing of this post. But the craft of serious, intelligent writing was.