There are so many times that I have faced the question of "What is the purpose of life?" And still I couldn't really tell you. I don't think there is really one clear answer. Some people believe they have it and some may wind up posting in my comments what that purpose is. Yet, I really do not know if one person can answer for another what the sum total of an individual existence should be, or mean. Because I really don't know what is the purpose of life. All I know is that through the seasons, the changes are new and exciting, when the leaves drop from the trees and the wind blows in the snow, when the world freezes and I stand on frozen lakes, when I see the light shining through the icicles, when time seems to cease to exist perhaps this will be the closest to understanding I ever will be.
I suppose what I am trying to state, is that no conclusion of purpose decides meaning. The significance of life, to me, is to breathe. When I was wounded in the military, and spent years in hospitals, nothing made sense. At some point the only thing that did was music. But even playing music then, felt distasteful, unsatisfying, I could only feel pain, and not wanting to relate to the agony I disassociated from my physical body. Not even food had a flavor. Life was ash.
So, I have turned to the arts, to nature, to finding some significance, whatever it may be, perhaps out of desperation, perhaps because I feel at a loss. I feel so lost, and yet in this I find the wind beautiful. I feel unheard, so I sing. I feel trapped in this scared body, so I travel. I have tasted so much ash, so now I cook. But truly, with greater vision than before, I see the pollution of pain suffocating this world. It is from pain that greed grabs a hold of the heart. It is suffering that pushes people into hysteria and war. There is nothing more appalling to me, than war. It took being a part of the war machine to realize that there is no honor in killing. I haven't had a day without physical pain, in so many years, that I have forgotten that there may have been a time that I was whole--no broken body.
Yet, when I face the pain, stare it in the eye, I witness that it cannot age me. Pain cannot rot my determination. There is something, that I must do to satiate the internal oomph that somehow has driven me back on my feet. I was told I would never walk again. I walk. There is something that impels me to grip deeper into the challenges of this life. Something that dares me to survive the weather. Something that pushes me to want to lift another person. Sometimes I grit my teeth just to get through a day. Sometimes, I am depressed, and want all the pain to slip away. Sometimes I just don't know what to do. But nonetheless, I will carry on, stronger than before. Pain is ageless. So am I.