It started when I got born again.
Up to that point I was happily bimbling through my life; I liked to daydream, colour, read books and play.
Aged twelve my nominal old-man-in-the-sky Christianity got charismatic.
From then on life became about “serving God”. I agonised about this. Plenty. Was what I was doing serving God? Was it serving God in the right way? How would I know?
Later I started exploring a vocation to ministry. More agony. Was this what God wanted? I wanted to serve. But would this be the best way? As is often the case God was mostly silent on the subject.
Move forward a decade or so and life experiences brought me out of church. I dabbled with new age spirituality. In this world there’s a lot of talk about life purpose. More agony. Why am I here? What am I bringing to the giant pot luck supper of the world? What if I bring the wrong thing?
I move towards a more earth-based spiritual practice.
This equinox I sit in an orchard with my witchy sister and meditate on balance.
Let yourself off the hook, I say to myself, heck, if it helps forget the whole thing. If I stop thinking I have a purpose, or ought to have one, I feel better.
And it seems to me I’d rather have a life porpoise. It would be more playful, more graceful, more connected. Fancy a swim? Dive in, immerse yourself, the water is lovely.