Do you have a life mission? A single sentence, a guiding force that gives purpose to your very existence?

I do.

I didn’t always.

If I were to create an unofficial history of my life mission, it may look something like this:

Age 4: Get cookies.

Age 10: Get cookies.

Age 16: Get cookies.

Age 21: Get laid.

Age 27: Get laid.

Age 30: Get a good job. Then get laid.

Age 35: ?

Jung is often quoted as having said, “No man (person) can have a spiritual life until after they turn 30.”

I get it.

Around age 32, I had a fantastic job. I lived in a gorgeous, charming house, decorated in cheerful comic-book colors with groovy music swimming through my oaky, plant-filled home. I had been (and continue to be) blessed with more rich, loving friendships than is possibly fair. And I could buy cookies whenever I wanted.

Amidst this abundance of riches, I surveyed my fabulous little kingdom and a voice quietly asked, “Is this it? Just keep doing this until I die?”

Such a quiet little voice, asking this feeble little question.

“Is this all there is?”

Hey, I overcame shit: did the therapy thing, got better in dealing with anger, read some good love-yourself books. I was growing my spiritual and social awareness and had evolved into a pretty swell guy, even if my shirt didn’t always match my pants and I never got around to weed-whacking the far side of the garage.

“Is this all there is? Just keep doing this until I die?”

Fuck that little voice! Fuck that little stupid voice telling me to look for more.

So I ignored it.

Nevertheless, the nagging little question would pop up at times and I would barely acknowledge it before looking away. But a curious thing happens with repetition…I began to hear nuances in the question. I realized that little voice was not judging me or shaming me…but genuinely inquiring with child-like wonder. Is this it? Is this it? I began to hear the question not phrased as “you should DO more…” but rather as “could I possibly BE more? Am I more than this?”

These little nuances in tone matter.

Perhaps at a later time I may write about the journey from beginning to *listen* to actually finding a mission. This moment right now doesn’t feel quite right to elaborate - I’m too tempted to document it as a linear journey instead of respecting its true inclination: a meandering flow of heart-stretching experiences.

In this Mission River, two ports get special notes. The first: MKP. New Warriors were the ones who said, “What’s the one greatest gold you’re hiding from the world? And why won’t you let us see it?”

When I tried to resist with, “Hey, I’m middle-aged, overweight, homo, desk-jockey who can’t possibly…”

They cut me off and said, “Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though. Whats the one greatest gold you’re hiding from the world?…”

A little trust, a little heart-stretching, and one weekend later, I had a mission.

They didn’t tell me this mission. No, no, that would be too easy. And honestly, I could never co-opt someone else’s “this is your life’s mission” crap. No, they helped uncover what was already inside me; they invited me to polish it. Make it sparkle. And then, go out there and live it.

Bastards.

Part of polishing this mission was attending Warrior Monk. I sat. I listened. Sat a little longer. And from the stillness came a compass, a way of interpreting mission and mission work. It was like hearing the music of an instrument that never existed before, a language that had never been spoken. Oh.

Oh.

It’s uniquely mine, this evolving mission. My words, my spirit. It’s bigger than me, bigger than I can accomplish in this or the next lifetime. But instead of being intimidated by this, I yearn for it, because every day I live that mission fills me in a way the comic-book-colored house cannot.

It’s a single sentence, memorized. Every day it races through my brain as well as up and down my spine. It’s tingly.

I share it sometimes, the words, but only when asked. And only when we can stand close enough that you can see my face light up when I say it aloud.

The question I hear regularly in my head these days is no longer the reedy, small voice of a wondering child. Is this it? That kid is out playing kickball, laughing his ass off. Now the voice is larger. It booms. And yet it’s quite affable and often relaxed.

‘So.’ says the voice and I immediately begin to grin. ‘How do I want to live my mission today?’

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 1st, 2008 at 8:26 pm and is filed under Warrior. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.