I don’t like the idea of “life purpose”

My life is taking some interesting twists and turns right now, and I’m mostly enjoying the ride. I’m still building a small following online, and I’m ruling in/ruling out things I want to do for my own business. For example, I have ruled out working with clients. The fact is, I don’t like working that way — I feel like an order taker. So if I’m going to work with people, it’s going to be on a consultant or teacher-type basis. Otherwise, I’m developing some outlines for little e-courses that I could sell to help people get online without so much stress.

In other news, I also want to get back to writing fiction, so I’m starting that again this weekend. I had planned to actually take a training course this weekend in something called “laughter yoga” (look on YouTube!), but unfortunately I got hit with a major virus and I ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.

And … I started taking training courses to become a life coach. So far, so good. I’ve only taken one class, but I really liked it and plan to spend some more time with the material over the next few days because the second class starts next week.

If I have learned nothing about myself, it’s that I need to just create: write, take photos, make fun things, make beautiful things, make thought-provoking things, helpful things. That’s all I really want to do.

So where does this headline come from, about life purpose? Lots and lots of people talk about finding your passion or purpose in life, and that until you do, you’re not really living.

If I do become a life coach, I’m not going to talk about that at all. My focus will be entirely on helping people accept where they are and who they are right this very minute. In fact, I’m thinking of writing a short book on the topic already. I don’t need credentials to self-publish a book. And I believe I have something to say. Screw life purpose. Just be. Just live.

Well, this has been a rambling and rather odd post, probably because I have a fever and just typing on the keyboard is draining me. I have to stop for now, but I’ll be back. I’ll be back until I’m not breathing anymore.

The Gift of Fear

I started reading a book this morning called The Gift of Fear, by Gavin de Becker. I haven’t gotten very far, but I did read one statistic in the first few pages that floored me.

In the United States, a woman is murdered every two hours by her spouse/significant other.

A woman. Is murdered. Every two hours. By her spouse.

We are losing 12 women per day to spousal homicide.

Excuse me, but is this not a public health crisis of a huge magnitude?

Do the math: That’s 4,380 women per year. MURDERED. By their spouses.

How many of those women have children who then become parentless? What becomes of them? And what happens to the perpetrators? Are they convicted? Do they get away with it?

I’d like to take a moment to imagine 4,380 women standing in front of you right now.

What can we do? I’m asking: What can we do?