ASPIRATION EXPIRATION

The phrase appeared in the chat during one of my classes: aspiration expiration. Perfect! That’s my new T-shirt. (Thank you, R.) I was referring to the importance of reevaluating our aspirations every so often, something I have certainly been lazy or perhaps fearful about. Maybe I didn’t always realize it was even an option. The pressure of fantasy. As a little girl, I wanted to be … For years, people have told me I should … My mother always wanted to … They didn’t get to, so I … But I’m successful now, so I should … What do you want to be when you grow up?

The billboard clearly says: THIS IS YOUR PURPOSE! Hmm, I whisper, is this still talking to me? Is this what I want anymore? So fully engaged in the habit of my pursuit, maybe I hadn’t thought to wonder.

We are advised over and over to “find our purpose.” It is guidance and admonition. The implication is myriad. Finding “it” will bring happiness. Huh, and not finding it? Discovering “it” makes life worth living. Uh oh, not?

The directive to find purpose implies that there is something magical out there that will change what’s in here. We just have to find where it is hiding. And we may spend endless time, money, and precious enthusiasm on the search. Spending without reward leads to diminishment of the body, mind, and spirit, as generative energy is siphoned off by resentment, bitterness, envy, and other recursive feelings.

But what if we take PURPOSE down from the map, a state to get to that’s always just beyond the border of where we are? Would we suddenly have time to notice what we are actually experiencing in the moment? This moment? A pin to pop the great balloon of Purpose, allowing it to deflate, and then considering something less grandiose, perhaps, such as the simple nature of our current offering. In this moment, at this age, after however many miles traveling through innumerable experiences, what might be the shape and content of contribution now? Where do we feel the alignment of ease and expression now?

What if Julia Child had stayed in advertising? What if Vera Wang had continued as a figure skater? What if Toni Morrison had remained a teacher? Would it matter? Yes, and not at all. That’s not the point. It is, rather, that allowing ourselves to inquire all over again can free us from the ever-narrowing habit of trying to fulfil the dreams of others – ancestors, parents, our younger selves – as we value where we have been, yes, but allow it to continue to unfold.

In my mind’s eye, a skater glides across the ice, the precise lines formed and released by her powerful body in motion. Once she is out of frame, I do not know where she goes or who she becomes.