The Memorial Day sirens wailed as I strolled along my favorite stream. As always, even though I was not in Israel, I stood still.
I tried to visualize the friends who, fifty and sixty years ago, were fighting beside me when they died. I still remember them—vividly.
But then that phrase popped into my head: “He gave his life.”
Really? Gave it?
If someone had asked me back then, “Would you be willing to give your life?” —
F… NO.
Fortunately, no one phrased it that way. We were simply asked to risk our lives.
And at that age, risking my life was easy.
When the sirens stopped, I realized I was standing next to a wild patch of poppies. I’d been watching them for weeks—first budding, then bursting into brilliant red.
Now, their color is fading. The petals are falling.
They’re not dying, I thought. They’re just transforming into seeds.
Was that their purpose all along—creating new life?
Is it mine?
My petals, I admit, are fading too. But as far as seeding goes—mission already accomplished, with three delightful results.
I kept pondering the question of life purpose, but couldn’t come up with one that felt truly satisfying.
If any of my readers have a suggestion, I’m open. Bonus points if you leave it as a comment, not an email.
As I continued my walk, I made peace with the idea that I don’t really need a capital-P Purpose.
But I can reflect on my objectives and actions. So I came up with a few guiding principles.
They mostly lean toward the via negativa—the “don’t do dumb stuff” school of wisdom:
-
Don’t harm others.
-
Don’t harm the environment.
-
Try not to harm myself. (Easier said than done.)
-
Don’t do things I dislike. (Seriously, time’s getting short.)
On the active side, I have just two rules:
-
Do things I enjoy.
-
Stay able to follow rule #1.
Of course, many activities don’t fit neatly into those two. Such as, say, helping others or saving humanity.
To which I say: Sure—if it brings you joy.
Be happy.
Or at least aim for pleasantly amused.
