When I was in college, a favorite debate for late nights was whether life is determined by forces out of our control or subject to free will. The answer is subjective, of course. Not being a philosopher, I never chose a side, although I favor free will. But recently, I re-read Dr. Wayne Dyer’s book I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW in which he advised anyone seeking to discover their true purpose or path in life to conduct a simple exercise. There’s no age limit for participation.
Go back as far as childhood to ferret out turning points. I divided my list into age levels. Without attempting to create an autobiography, simply list decisions, as minor as they may have seemed to be (i.e. “chose playing with others when possible”) in which you may have had input or which directed your life. Most children are primarily commanded by parents in those early years. Many parents and other authority figures accept that they have a responsibility to mold the new human into someone in whom they can feel pride—perhaps in the future if not in the present. They often require a different moral/ethical system in children from the behavior they accept in prominent adults or even themselves.
As you recount your choices, mark the decisions that weren’t yours as belonging to parents or other authority figures such as religious leaders, teachers, or even older siblings. For example, my mother, grandmother, and primary school wanted me to appear lady-like, so dresses were mandatory on most occasions for all girls. (We wore leggings beneath our skirts on cold days.) My family picked the church we attended, and tried unsuccessfully to herd the family into more restrictive religious doctrine later in life when they were persuaded to choose alternatives.
However, my innate stubborn independence (ego) was in evidence early. For example, struck by my version of empathy, in fourth grade I traded my hardbound novels about horses to a boy who came from a disadvantaged family for a single comic book, much to the ire of my mother who was frugal. I felt betrayed when I was punished for disobeying when I stayed on my bike too late into the evening. After all, I was a good kid and an accomplished student. I felt I deserved special treatment. Spankings felt childish. Convinced I would be famous one day, I followed the example of an article I’d read in a movie magazine and kept all my used spelling workbooks and writing assignments for later publication. I felt I needed to do things in my own way–gaining attention, befriending socially unpopular students, silently weeping when students were mistreated in class by the teacher, taking risks being alone in the woods, and accepting that I could act in plays and write better than most kids my age. I thought I had seized the reins of my life.
Aside from making conscious choices, my list contained a third category: intuition. We feel influenced by an outside force some call the subconscious, a higher Source, angels, or spirit guides. As I matured, Intuition seemed to take a greater role far more often, pushing me toward choices that were controversial at times. I was no longer a golden child to those around me as I faced my weaknesses, the jealousy of others, and influences such as world fear, purposeful unethical manipulation, and rampant deception that soured my idealism. I stopped wanting to run with the crowd.
When you read your updated list, you may see patterns you hadn’t realized before. Did you love yourself? Did you select companions who would encourage you to pursue your curiosity? If not, what did that show you? What did you show them? Do you see hard lessons your choices laid out for you? Have you been led by your experiences? Can you begin to see what you’re here to represent?
I’ve thrown away my spelling workbooks. I don’t need to be famous, although it would certainly aid sales of my novels. When I retired from teaching, my new college president had no idea what my accomplishments might have been and didn’t care. A small group of my former high school students from the 1970’s remember me fondly. Their school doesn’t. My university lost all record of my national speaking award. University professors who agreed to mentor my PhD decided they had lost interest in my A+ proposal by the next semester. My parents believed I married beneath my station when I chose a divorced man with two emotionally damaged children to raise, although my siblings and parents didn’t want me to earn a PhD or I’d be arrogant. What does it all mean? What do I mean? I’ve had 77 years to consider. I suspect I’m simply here to be whatever it is that I am, not accomplish. I’m here to love unconditionally. It’s a big enough assignment.
