Purpose

Purpose will be a recurring theme. Is there a purpose for this "blob" other than to provide an outlet for the myriad of complex emotions and thoughts that swirl around in my brain? Do I treat it like a journal: felt mired in mud this morning . . . who cares? Do I continue to explore words to describe my varying states of mind? Do I describe the incredible, intense longing in my chest as I play the piano? Do I take into consideration that there will be people who will read this? What effect "should" that have on content and choice of subject? I intuitively feel that I need to continue to be true to whatever is my driving need and what the struggle may be to take action in response.

I was playing the piano and thoroughly enjoying the music . . classical, but not very difficult arrangements so I could play the pieces easily and be able to express emotion. I loved hearing the sound of the chords and the notes. After playing for about an hour, I really started longing for Ted to wander in as he so often did when I was playing and appreciate the music with me. Sometimes we would sing together; I loved his voice. I recalled growing up and playing for hours while family life went on around me. I remembered after  my dad died at the age of 49 and I was 17 I used to play the piano all the time and cry and cry.

Pretty soon, I was bursting inside with emotion. I was interrupted by my phone. My friend Margie called me. A turtle from nowhere was up by her front door. He was at least 5 to 7 inches long. She was feeling frantic about keeping her cat away from it. Mind you, I was still filled up inside with powerful feelings. Calmly I said, "Do you want some help?" The answer was yes. I got up immediately from the piano and left the house, picking up my garden gloves and a bucket on the way and headed across the street.
When I climbed up the long, long hill that is her driveway and arrived at the entryway, there was this cute turtle just resting next a brick wall with nothing but concrete around him.

I got him into the bucket and then we went into the house. All of a sudden I burst out with the depth of my longing and the tears flowed. Margie put her arms around me and I cried. I was not alone. Then she fixed me a snack and we chatted. She said that was Ted's turtle because of the timing. It was such a bizarre thing:  to be called because of a turtle. And it got me to a place where I could release my intense feelings with someone. As I was about to leave with the turtle, the skies also burst forth with intense rain echoing my release of tears. We stood under cover to watch until it subsided enough to journey out.

I took the turtle down by the lake and released it among some rocks, mud and grasses not far from the water. Did the turtle have a purpose showing up at Margie's door? It feels like a purpose was served by each of us in the scenario described. I no longer feel so mired in mud. The intense emotions are not trying to explode out of me. I feel comforted and understood. I feel I was useful to a friend. I don't know how the turtle felt but he did have a purpose. My friend engaged my help and offered comfort and food and easy chatter.

I need to search for purpose when I am feeling adrift. Or, just be awake to the call to action. I keep coming back to being true to myself. Can that be a purpose?