Know Your Life's Purpose?

Discovering Your Life Purpose: Living the Life You Were Born to Live
by Melanie Votaw



Is your life filled with purpose? Every single one of us has a reason for being
here on the planet right now, and every one of us has a unique contribution that
no one else can make. It's the reason you were born. Are you living the life you
were born to live? This inspiring course takes you on a journey of exploration
and evaluation. Ask yourself the right questions and unveil answers that may
surprise you.


Am I the only one who still wonders from time to time what I want to be when I really grow up? It seems to me this question plagues most of us at least some of the time and some of us most of the time.

I don't want to be just marking time, waiting for my real life to begin, do you? I don't think that anything has such a significant impact on self esteem as finding out who you really are and what you're meant to be doing in this life. And then going for it.

That's not to say that I'm a lost lamb who has no idea what I'm doing or why; but there are certainly times when I don't seem to be headed in the right direction and what I'm doing seems quite pointless. Naturally enough, this often has a lot to do with responsibilities to self and family...I mean, it's difficult to discern a true sense of purpose when you're doing the fourth load of washing and the pile still hasn't shrunk.

There are days when it comes down to what I call the 'Ripple in the Pond' effect, a concept that brings me comfort when I seem to be ploughing through the necessary drudgery without making much of an impact on what I see as my 'real purpose'.

The ripple in the pond effect is a simple one. Think of it like this. When you drop a pebble into a pond, you'll see the concentric ripples spread to the far banks. It might be just a tiny pebble and it might have taken you only a moment and not much effort to drop it in - yet the effects are far reaching. In the same way, random acts of kindness can spread out from one tiny source to touch places we'll never see. It doesn't take a lot of effort but it does take an attitude of mindfulness.

Instead of bypassing that frazzled young mother in the shops, take a moment to smile at her and tell her how lovely her children are. Or, as I had the opportunity to say last night, 'Don't worry, some things get easier as they get older. You're doing great.' Imagine how far that effect might spread...I hope she felt uplifted and more able to handle her hyped up kids with tolerance. And then I hope the kids calmed down a little and stopped fighting. Maybe Dad will be mighty grateful to see them come home and go to bed peacefully, giving him some quality time with his wife.

Who knows? I don't see these consequences...I don't know what really happens. But I do believe in dropping pebbles of kindness into the ocean of life. I believe in the concept of critical mass - the more people who practice this mindfulness the closer the world will come to Utopia (for want of a better word). Wouldn't it be Utopia though if the world were flooded with kindness, caring and compassion?

So the ripple in the pond idea keeps me going when I feel I'm not achieving much in this life and helps me to place the emphasis where it rightly belongs, on the small, significant things.

Making Women Public Property

A woman's experience of the world is intensely public. Our very forms of dress are designed so that at no time are our personal body parts kept private in the way that a man's body is kept to himself. At all times our breasts, hips, legs and faces are up for male scrutiny since men are allowed to stare at us in a way that women are not permitted to stare at men and men are not permitted to do to one another.

A male-to-male stare is most likely to produce an aggressive response in reaction to the invasion of privacy and to the (correctly) assumed perception of judgement. It is instinctively understood that this is a violation and a power play, one which women are not able to defend themselves against. At the end of a 'normal' day, it's not uncommon for me, and others like me, to feel emotionally violated and yet we're told to view this unwanted attention as a compliment. We're supposed to enjoy it; be flattered by it; and grateful to the man who has passed his judgement on us.

Television, movies and magazines perpetuate the smokescreen. On view at any time of night or day, are dozens of images of female flesh, almost invariably young and scantily clad; if not young, then cosmetically doctored or virtually enhanced. Our men pass judgement on these objects as well, while we sit and squirm, feeling inadequate and often, emotionally betrayed. (And woe betide the woman who breaks her silence on this issue!)

Is it any wonder that so many women shy away from physical intimacy, hiding their bodies and making excuses for their lack of interest? The fact is, as Naomi Wolff points out in her book, 'The Beauty Myth', if men were subject to the kinds of imagery and judgement that women experience umpteen times a day, they would come to our beds with failing hearts. It would be our partners, not us, who turn off the lights, get undressed in the dark and duck for cover under the sheets before they can be seen as the unique piece of humanity they are...because they wouldn't look anything like sixteen to twenty year old boys, half starved of nutrition, pumped up with obsessive exercise, altered by cosmetic surgery and even then, airbrushed into society's definition of perfection.

Seen in this light, our position is truly ridiculous - and the men who, by their participation in this destructive situation, even if only by their complacent acceptance of the 'norm', are also ridiculous.

The Porn Myth - Naomi Wolf

Through the Shattered Glass

We all see ourselves reflected in the eyes of others. This is not a peculiarly feminine trait: it is simply peculiarly human. For most men this reflection is whole. (Though sadly this too is changing.) For me and my sisters the image we behold is a collection of distorted fragments, none of them pleasing, few good enough. When I behold my face the first feature I see is my too long nose, an aberrant beak, a bulbous knob. From there I note the black, immutable shadows that lie in the caverns beneath my eyes and looking up I see two canyons coursing through my forehead, deviant worry lines that do not belong there despite my forty-six years and decade of ill health.

I've known enough men to know that what they see is a 'bloke who looks pretty good for forty-six' (or fifty or sixty). It's the being inside who counts and if the man is pleased with himself then he is pleased with his reflection. Sometimes, even if there's not a lot to be pleased about, he'll still give the thumbs up. Not so woman.

A woman can achieve much, love much, make great inroads for justice, nurture others, develop her talents and her spirituality (in-so-far as she is able in this world), and still behold a hideously flawed being. Our neurosis? I don't think so. Our own lovers often tell us this story, if not through blunt words, then through their actions, even when we look to them to liberate us through their love. We at least want to be perfect in their eyes. We know that they are perfect in ours.

There are two ways to go from here. We can either break down the bonds that bind humanity in materialism and objectification, bringing the strength of feminine wisdom with us or we can harden our hearts and succumb to the inevitable, destructive forces that are at play in male dominated world. I fear the world is taking the lesser road instead of the road less travelled. There will be no winners.