Existential Crises

Existential Crises. Dark Nights of the Soul. Soul shaking, heart-breaking "What the FUCK am I doing here?" moments.

Yeah. I've had a couple of those. (Years...literally YEARS spent in existential crisis...)

They happen less now than they used to, although every now and then, a tiny little existential question pops up, like a gopher peering out of its hole, and threatening to wreak absolute havoc on the carefully manicured landscape of my mind.

Looks so innocent...

I used to have an existential crisis, like, every week.

"Why am I here? What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of MY life? (And how did they get the caramel into the Caramilk bar!!?) I need answers dammit!"

So how did I stop doing something, which quite frankly, is a gargantuan waste of time and energy?

The simple answer: FAITH.

Faith that I'm on the right path because all roads lead to Rome. That there's a plan for my life and regardless of what road I choose to travel, I will get to where I'm going.

Faith that the Universe has my back. That what I want for me (with the want coming from a heart-centred place) is what the Universe wants for me, therefore it will conspire to help me get it.

The knowledge that my life isn't just about me, and that because we are all interwoven parts of a giant tapestry, then what I do will affect others. And because of that, knowing that it's not just about the Universe having MY back, it's about the Universe having EVERYONE's back.

We make the mistake of thinking that it's ALL ABOUT US. (On some level, we are all narcissists.) But come on guys, haven't you seen the Butterfly Effect? Everything we do sends waves of energy into the Universe. And if the Universe has a grand plan (which I believe it does) then our actions can and will affect the lives of others. And the Universe knows how all of that it supposed to unfold, so we don't have to manage anything.

Am I right about all of this?

Who knows?

Who cares?

Maybe there is no plan, no point to anything, and when we die, it's like someone turned off a switch, boom, THE END.

But believing that is not conducive to me feeling at peace.

Feeling as though I'm part of some grand plan, and that the Universe wants the best for all of us, and that life goes on because my soul is eternal, well that helps me sleep at night and I'm not hurting anyone with that belief. So what's it to ya?

I mean isn't that the point of any belief really? To make our lives better? And if what we're choosing to believe (yes, it is a choice - own that my lovelies) isn't improving our lives, we can just pick a new thought.

I choose to believe that I have a purpose.

I don't know exactly what it is yet.

And that is ok.

I do know that I have a powerful voice, and the ability to use it. I'm eloquent at expressing myself in both the written and spoken word. (We must own that which we are as much as that which we are not.)

I know that I'm very brave. I've never met anyone who is as courageous as me. And when I say that, I'm not talking about "slaying dragons" kind of courage, I'm talking about EMOTIONAL COURAGE. Facing difficult emotions and emotionally challenging situations head on. I'm an emotional badass.

I know that I have a different perspective on life. The Universe tells me that more often now, through the people messengers it sends (sometimes people messengers come to us, sometimes we ARE the people messengers). In the last month I've been told that I'm a "Very Rare Specimen" a "Unique Creature" and a "Rare Commodity." (I'm repeating this not to sing my own praises, but to show you how the Universe validates us if we listen. In this case, it's letting me know that who I am is the most important aspect of what I'm meant to do. SPOILER ALERT: who you are - truly, at your core - is also the most important aspect of what YOU'RE meant to do.)

So my purpose, and what I'm meant to do with my life has to do with me expressing myself, doing it bravely, and being authentic in the process.

Everyday, I do more of those things which I feel in my heart are tied to my purpose. I speak up more. I find more opportunities to be brave. I find more opportunities to be myself.

That IS the path. It doesn't matter that I don't know where the path is leading. That's what existential crises are about, and that's why they're bullshit. Because they demand answers, they demand to know where the road leads.

We discover our purpose by noticing what we're good at, what we're drawn to, and what the Universe is telling us about who we are.We need to find those things, spend more and more time doing them, and that's the place our purpose will come from - not from wailing at life like a banshee and demanding that it tells us what we're supposed to do.

I'm telling you this so that maybe you can begin to notice the ways in which the Universe is letting you know what you're meant to do. Maybe it's been telling you for a long time, but you're not listening (we are terrible students sometimes).

It tells us in the little things, but too often we make the mistake of waiting for the big things, like a Burning Bush or something. (Listen, if you want a Burning Bush, find a match and start a fire. God helps those who helps themselves.)

None of this is meant to imply that we should sit around passively waiting for things to happen to us. We need to go out. Live life. Look, listen, speak, act. You will get there. We will all get there if we follow the omens.

And then when that little gopher pops it's head up, we can bop him on that head and say "Uh-uh, I don't think so mister, back down you go." (Since it's a figurative gopher, head bops are permitted. I'm totally against cruelty to real animals. #downwithzoos)

Existential crises are also just a way to avoid doing the work we already know we need to do in order to fulfill our purpose. They are a giant avoidance mechanism, much like drugs, alcohol, food, or any other addiction. It's a handy dandy way to avoid actually doing anything.

You know what they say about coincidence, don't you?

The Universe is rarely so lazy.

We are born knowing why we are here. And then the world puts mud on our wings, and tells us we're wrong.

Our only job in this life is to shake the mud off our wings so that we can fly.

Small task, but big task. Sometimes a lifetime's' worth of work.

But what else would we do besides that with our time here?

We can spend a lifetime asking why we are here and what we are meant to do - avoiding life all the while. Or we can go out and just do the things.

Option B is more likely to generate answers. And it will be more fun. :)

So...come fly with me?