Tag Archives: mental health

how to find your life’s purpose

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Finally, once and for all, I am going to tell you what the purpose of your life is. In some way I feel uniquely qualified. Not because I am old. Not because I am psychic, although I am. And not because I am a tarot card reader, although I practice that also. If you’ve been here long, you know I have been reading the tarot since given a deck in high school…so, going on 60 years. If they’ve taught me anything, it’s how to listen.

Tarot card readers, and psychics, by the way, are simply unqualified counselors. I used to shy away from the younger ones for this reason, wondering how much life experience they could bring to the conversation. I don’t do that anymore. Young people, if paying attention, are sometimes less influenced by the world around them and more present. Young people like Rob Bell, Kyle Cease, Steven Bright, just to name a few readily available to you on social media.

When you make yourself available to new acquaintances under any guise of offering wisdom (as if…) you will find that many people come searching to know their purpose. And so I have been a curious student of this question for decades. And I actually do think i might have some wisdom to offer.

I can absolutely tell you your purpose, but first I must tell you what it is not. Then I will reveal what it is. And then, thirdly, I need to tell you something you need to know that is even more important than your purpose. There is one more important thing.

Firstly, your purpose is not a job. You think you know that. But when you start seeking to know why you are here, you will undoubtedly try to condense your life’s purpose into actionable knowledge – into something to do. It’s the human way, and hence the third point of this soliloquy. So it is important to know the difference between purpose and right livelihood.

Right livelihood is a purposeful way to work, to earn a living, to support yourself. It’s right because it fits you. Like a glove. But there is not one glove for every purpose. You don’t shovel snow in the same gloves you garden in. And so there is never A singular right livelihood for each of us, or for all the stages of life. Right livelihood changes and grows with you.

There are things you love to do and are naturally adept at. Those are passions, and talents. Some are genetic. Some are environmental. All are interesting and fulfilling, even if they do require study and practice. Often those will lead you to right livelihood, to a vocation that is satisfying and contributing. But these are not your purpose.

You – yes, you are a spy. You are a spy for God. For consciousness. If you were born human your purpose is to observe life on the planet earth and report your findings. Specifically to the Akashic Record Department, but simply say to consciousness. Feel free to share generously what you observe. We will all take what we can use. Your purpose is to live in service to the life on the planet, to the living planet itself. So that we may all continue to evolve life here. And developing your skills of observation takes tremendous practice. It will consume your entire life. And it will not come easy.

Here is the third – and most important – thing you need to know: you have been sold a bill of goods about purpose. It’s a cult. You were groomed and inducted before you knew what was going on. You were subconsciously and intentionally indoctrinated into a cultural belief system that convinced you that you had better not miss your purpose. You better find that purpose or you might waste your life. Nothing could be further from the truth. Quite literally, that program was designed to keep you from the truth. It was designed to keep you in slavery. To hustle to survive. You make other people a lot of money that way.

As Gloria Steinem so wisely said, “The truth will set you free. But first it will piss you off.” She understood the assignment.

So…how, exactly do we train to be a spy for God? We pay attention. And we don’t really have much precedence for that, so we must first train ourselves to withdraw our attention from distraction. That means developing a constant daily routine of saying yes and no as consciously as we can. Our days are packed full of choices and decisions. We learn to say no to some, yes to others. We eventually learn to pay attention to our gut instincts. To our intuition. Intuition: the voice of God inside of us. We have to learn to pay attention to our bodies, our internal barometer.

I can use my recent bear encounter as a metaphor. “They” say never to run from a bear. You will not outrun it. You are instructed to stand tall, arms stretched upward and make noise. If it’s a black bear, anyway. I did not do this. I bolted. Of course, I was only several feet from my front door (up a flight of stairs). I did not think. What is thought?! I had no thoughts. I was all reaction. I took those stairs two at a time. I was in the house behind a dead-bolted steel door before it occurred to me that A) I might want to react differently, and B) I took those stairs two at a time! I normally drag my painful creaking knee up one stair at a time ever-so slowly, moaning the entire climb. Would I react differently on a trail through the woods with nowhere to hide? M a y b e…

Another “they” says it is good practice to allow for a little space in your thoughts before reacting. You know…learn to respond rather than react. Maybe next lifetime. Maybe if I’m face to face with a bully. Nah – who am I kidding?! Haaahhahahaaa……

Happy Thanksgiving for all.

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“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Well…almost all. Unless you’re an indigenous native…or gay…or black…or female…or…well, okay, unless you’re anything other than straight white male. And then, depending on your political affiliations, to be determined subject to the current balance of power…or…fuckall

We children all stood obediently, put our right hand over our heart and repeated after our adoring teacher. In any other setting that ritual would be called indoctrination into a cult. The cult of nationalism has many sub-cults. The cult of school (yay, team), the cult of church. The cult of family. The cult of loyalty, unquestioned and unquestionable. Don’t you dare question. By the time we’re around the age of 10 (too generous? maybe 7?) we are gone. As in, so completely turned around and conditioned that we have no idea who we are. We do know what we stand for – because we have been told. God help us.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in these here United States. Let the celebration of genocide begin. That is not to say I am not grateful, because I truly am. I might be female, but at least I was born into a privileged white family. In a peaceful, free country. Might not have been the same United States you were born into. But let’s be honest, I’ve had many advantages. And much to overcome. I doubt my father would have been an abusive narcissist were he not born where and when he was. He certainly would not have had so many advantages, least of all a culture of protection around him to hide his psychopathy for 82 years. Talk about an invisibility cloak, phew! That worked well.

My mother died of liposarcoma at the age of 69. The oncologists refer to that cancer as “the anger cancer.” I suspect all cancer takes root in anger, but suffice it to say she died of repressed anger. I’ve told many times here about my memorable 16th birthday gift from her. She gave me two books: The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan and The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer. Was she trying to tell me something? Ya think? At least she made an effort. God knows she never had a chance of any freedom for herself. And I was so conditioned by then, I had only a smidgen more.

Had I not been born into privilege, in a relatively safe environment with abundant food and shelter, would I have ever have gained any insight into the underlying dysfunction? I’ll tell you what my family thinks: they think I am blatantly ungrateful. They couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m grateful for all the same things they are, and so much more. I’m just grateful for different reasons.

You see, I think they are living in a deadly and toxic state of denial. I think they are altogether unwilling to press pause on their insecurity button for just a little moment, long enough to consider – not accept, just consider – that they are not actually superior to everyone else. And so, they behave as if they are absolutely terrified of everyone around them all the time. They don’t leave the house without their gun. The world is a very scary place. It’s full of others.

I don’t envy them that position, although I have at times in the past. God knows most days I’d give anything for that previous naivete. For one more day back home with them all around the dining table on Thanksgiving, laughing. I didn’t know those were fields of gold.

I have often envied them the certainty of their convictions when I was questioning my own motives. When I was requiring myself to be as honest with myself as I possibly could bring myself to be about why I thought I might be smart enough to have figured something out.

I’m not. Smarter. I haven’t figured out shit. But I do have certainty of my convictions now. Not because I accepted what I was taught, but precisely because I have questioned it all and decided how to think and what to believe – beyond a shadow of a doubt. Insert belly-laughing emoji here.

What a mess we have created from fear. Of course, I’m neurodivergent, so conservative ass-holes seem to have everything backward from where I stand. And this grief I am going through recently comes with an equal measure of terror. Most of my fitful sleep is composed of my fighting for my life. Nightmares of my family trying to kill me aren’t new, but lately there are trained assassins after me. I’ve moved up in the world. Or they have. Now they can hire it done.

I’ll tell you what: fuck this shit. I’m determined to look the demons right in the eye and beat them at their own game. It’s freedom or nothing. Give me liberty or…

“Being an American means reckoning with a history fraught with violence and injustice. Ignoring that reality in favor of mythology is not only wrong but also dangerous. The dark chapters of American history have just as much to teach us, if not more, than the glorious ones, and most often the two are intertwined.” – Ken Burns

the devastating effects of OPD

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Last month was a blur. I spent the month in bed with pneumonia. Last week I had a clear chest exam. This week my OPD has flared up. No rest for the weary I guess. For those of you who don’t know, OPD is a spectrum disorder. Most of us have some degree of it. You might be surprised to learn that it is only slightly less prevalent in women than men, and that your risk is 37% higher if you live in the United States.

The symptoms of OPD (Obnoxious Personality Disorder) cause more harm than previously recognized here in the states, and are more easily identified in European countries frequented by American tourists. The expat population is currently being studied for their seeming immunity. Although one must wonder, if they didn’t somehow suffer the adverse affects of living around OPD, would they have moved abroad in the first place?

Symptoms often include an inflamed sense of entitlement, frequently followed by “the Karen effect.” One of my first clues of the flareup came around the need to wash dishes. Housework is often a trigger for me. I shouldn’t have to do it. Then there is the dilemma of having to cook for myself, but recent improvements in meal delivery options have helped with that.

The biggest trigger for me is the lack of high quality entertainment on the television. I subscribe to a dozen or more self-help streaming services and have thousands of movies and television series available to watch. Yet I am so picky that I can seldom find anything satisfying to quell the symptoms. I am frequently irritated, even at inanimate objects.

If you, too, suffer from the crippling effects of this disorder, know that there are resources available. Dial 1-800-I-BLAME-U, or try pulling your head out of your behind after a long, warm bath. This Netflix series will also help: