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I was examining our seeming obsession with finding that ultimate, but so elusive happiness.

A happiness that seems so obviously presented all over the social media pages, and more so obviously always somewhere else—only a hint of a perfect moment in time, almost an impossible dream.

A few people ahead of a game—reveling in success and money—profess the truth of success in having a great idea, a good plan, dedication, hard work…more hard work and more dedication.

What about us lesser fortunate humans, the ordinary people who will never have great ideas, as much as we can put hard work and dedication to use? What is the aim of our game? Where is our elusive, ultimate bliss?

When I looked for a meaning of the word “intention,” I found: “a thing intended, aim, or plan.”

Moreover, there was an additional medical term that meant “healing of wound,” which I thought was more appropriate in my case.

The case in question is that I seek to find my purpose in this beautiful and twisted world, but on a more profound level, I seek to heal internal wounds that have prevented me from fulfilling this purpose—that have stopped me on the way to fulfillment of my purpose.

On the quest for the truth of my purpose, I examined the reasons for this wound. I always felt I needed to adhere to societal expectations of me. I needed to obey the perceived image of me painted by my background, environment, parents, beliefs, expectations—you name it. I wanted to please to achieve, to use my intellect in the way that I was taught was the best: apply yourself, make good plans, work hard, be dedicated, and do some more hard work and be even more dedicated.

But where is the fulfillment in that?

What is stopping me from being fulfilled with what I have now? Why do I think there must be more to life, some hidden treasure at the end of a rainbow?

Is it a deeply rooted fear of success that is preventing me from finding my purpose? Is it a belief that I am only a small, unworthy grain of sand that is being washed over and over by tides that is stopping me to reach further, to find deeper meaning?

Is this why life feels like a chore with long days ending with exhaustion after trying to fulfill duties and obligations? Why do I feel numbness and dissatisfaction after a long day of performing at work and only finding a small reward in being able to help a few people and in keeping my family safe?

Is that all there is until the end?

Recently, I started writing poems more extensively to express and release my feelings—to satisfy my creative freedom. In the process, I found out that there is a whole community of us poetic souls standing on a cliff edge asking for salvation. Is that my soul’s purpose? Expressing pain and asking for absolution?

No, there must be more—a bigger, brighter view on the horizon, a big plan for me, with a big P…or maybe not.

What if the purpose is in seeking balance, honouring my uniqueness and vulnerability, accepting my limitations, doing my best for myself and the people I love, and accepting the gift of expression as it comes?

I would like to be accepted and appreciated for my contributions, however small and insignificant they are to this world. I want the world to see my heart and soul, to see beyond my wrinkling skin and aging face—beyond my physical beauty.

I want to find my purpose in self-awareness, wisdom of experience, perception of value of beautiful moments, and memories of my personal growth.

I want to savour little, ordinary pleasures of human connection, kindness, and gratitude; savour the joy of living, through good and bad, through heaven and hell on Earth.

I want to love myself and lose myself in a moment, and to not be ashamed of it, not be afraid to give love and give in to pleasure.

I want to fill my days with being in touch with my precious existence, with giving and receiving from kindred souls, with taking as much as I give, and with accepting with grace.

Regardless if it’s true or not, I wish that to be my purpose.

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