Noble Purpose

Many years ago, when I was in my twenties, I went to a party. It was a party with friends I had known for 10 years, friends who had stood by me through good times and bad, friends who had stood by me until I got to the other side of my alcoholism. Intelligent friends, valuable friends. When I left the party, I was driving home and for some reason, my head got going. The voice in my head was telling me, “That was a really stupid thing to say, why did you say that?” It was telling me, “Those friends will never invite you anywhere again.” I’m sure it was telling me more things I can’t even remember now, but it was all bad.

For some reason that day, I was able to stand outside myself and see this for what it was. Irrational. Nothing about those thoughts was reasonable or true. Then I was able to talk myself out of it.

I wish I could say that after that, the negative voice in my head was quiet, or that I continued to be able to rationally evaluate the voice and realize that certain statements weren’t valid, but I can’t say that. Even aware of this phenomenon, many times I have fallen victim to it, often not recognizing it, or when recognizing it, not being able to do anything about it. It’s a real skill to recognize the negative voice. It’s another real skill to practice the kind of self-discipline needed to shut the voice up. One would not necessarily associate discipline with this effort, but it does take discipline.

Right now, the voice in my head is going on again. It’s telling me, “That’s a stupid book, why would anyone care to read it?” “No one will ever read it, so what was the point of writing it?” “It took no talent to write that book, it’s not creative like the fantasy books I read.” “I’ll never be able to write another book because that’s the only story in me, so I’ll never be able to say I am really a writer like those who have multiple stories to tell.”

In this middle of this miasma, I look for other things to do. I consider my old standbys for creativity, things like needlepoint and beadwork. I feel I must always be doing something creative to have joy in life. The problem is that these things pale in comparison to writing the book.

Writing the book was a high, one of the best times I’ve ever had, with all the understanding and transformation that came with it. As Kurt Vonnegut once said, writing is an act of becoming. Needlework can’t compete. The voice says, “You’ll never do anything as good, as worthwhile, as that book ever again. Your life is basically over. You’ll never do anything inspired again. It takes no inspiration to do needlework.”

The voice in my head again, ironically not even agreeing with itself. How can the book be stupid, yet also be good and worthwhile and inspired? No one ever said the voices are logical.

I once had a friend, Randi, one of the best people I know. In fact, I dedicated my book to her. One day, Randi and I were out hiking and talking about life and spiritual things. Every few minutes, Randi said something negative about herself. I said, “Randi, I want you to step outside yourself and hear what you say to yourself. Count how many times a day you say something negative about yourself to yourself.” I was hoping she would do this so that she could start to change her thinking.

Randi didn’t hear me, or at least, she was incapable of understanding me. Randi died of a drug overdose. Negative self-talk can kill you.

For most of us, the end result is not so extreme, but the consequences are always bad. The negative voice saps the joy out of everything we do until we are plodding along, just trying to keep the voices at bay, and/or escape the worst of the punishment.

I’ve never been a fan of putting affirmations on the bathroom mirror and repeating them to myself to combat the negative voice. This works for some people and if so, I’m very glad for you. For me, rote statements on the bathroom mirror seem to lack depth, and without depth, they’ve had little meaning for me.

So I’m starting at the beginning. If the purpose of life is to create and to serve (you can read my book to find out about that), then any attempt I make to do that can be enough. Having creation and service as a life purpose is a noble and valiant thing, one to be admired, however feebly I act upon it.

Now that I’m older, it’s even more important to recognize this when there are fewer life milestones to look forward to, lest I count the only thing I have left to look forward to is dying.

In the end, maybe that’s the thing. Just knowing you have a noble purpose, however humble it may be, wherever in life you are.