Why am I here

Why am I here?

Depending on our frame of mind, this can have answers at either extreme! Soaring the heights of metaphysical abstraction or definitely earthbound, with all the follow-up questions tumbling behind. Including, how are we going to pay the mortgage…

My sense is that for most of us this question pitches somewhere in the middle. With pendulum swings depending on what’s going on in and around us.

But the question is still there. We have an inbuilt need to make sense of where we are. Without it, we trundle along on autopilot, occasionally emerging with a disturbing sense of disorientation.

Sometimes this is deliberate self-preservation. The question is too difficult, the consequences of facing it too enormous. It’s scary. The anaesthesia of conformity numbs us from having to make risky or challenging choices.

If we continue on autopilot for too long though, our ability to question gets rusty and any attempt to exercise it is met with resistance. Internally and externally.

Just let it be… and drift onwards. In the words of Tony Campolo, to ‘tiptoe through life, to arrive safely at death’  

Our ‘one precious life’

Instead, we can pick up this question, give it a good shake and look it straight in the eye. Why am I here?

How can we make sense of where we are? With courage and vulnerability that recognises that the answer isn’t simple.

Why am I here?

Right now and in this place – what does it mean? Will I speak it out loudly enough to dislodge the cotton wool from my ears? And can I hear it’s echoes bouncing across my world?

Not yesterday, nor tomorrow, but today. This one precious slice of now. The only thing that’s real, yet connected and connecting both past and future.

My question is also part of your question. And your answer part of mine.

Stop…

Listen. Hear.

See…

Why am I here?

I’ve been waiting to ask that question for a long time. And it’s here now, today.

Why am I here?

… answers on a postcard…

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