Purpose

How I have been sitting with some life’s big questions

Hello Out There,

For the past couple of years, I've been on a deep dive, attempting to get closer to those sacred questions that linger outside my door and inside my mind.

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

I've explored various avenues in search of answers. I've moved states, embraced the enduring yet often silenced pull towards my writing, and written a book, seen a vision, a need, and as I did — words followed suit towards a movement that I know will one day be birthed.

Nevertheless, the questions persist:

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

Over the past years, I've strengthened my voice, a voice that used to shatter when asked any question at all. A voice that grew up with a speech impediment and learned to replace words that could not be accurately spoken. Dreams replaced with wishes. Trust replaced with belief. Words that are similar, yet never were the same. I grew with a voice that learned to let go, of what was not easy, of what did not “naturally” roll off the tongue — forgotten words, vanished words, painful words. A voice that has now learned to not give up that easy, to not alter my thoughts for fear of how it will sound, a voice that now seems to flow even when it is saying, “I don’t know.”

Yet, the questions persist:

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

I've honed in on my identity as a mother. I've expanded with love beyond what I ever thought was possible. I've touched places that I never knew existed as I witness my son’s joy spill out his body, uncontainable for which I find gratitude. In the same sentence of becoming, I've also grieved and still grieved who I once was, what I did not know, and who I will never be. Not only have I become a mother, but I've also joined forces with other mothers whose deep wish is to move into the light, to not carry this name - this job - this identity alone.

Still, the questions persist:

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

Through actively searching for wholeness, I've connected to parts of my truth by swimming inside. By gaining access to enter — me. By reconnecting with a body, a body that used to, and sometimes still becomes hard to inhabit. A body that for a long time learned to border up its heart, for the fear of what might be found was too large. A body that has now made its way through the protections. A body that has now recognized that grief and love serve as the tools to dismantle the wall. To open up to all of me allows me to open up to all of you and the world, which really needs my full-hearted attention.

Yet, the questions persist:

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

I've learned that I cannot do this life alone and that, in fact, I do not have to. I've tapped into the power of the chores, of voices uniting. I've seen courage and healing that becomes possible when you know you are not alone, and in fact, all of you is welcome. I've learned to say things I never would say before, like, “I need help, I am having a hard day, I feel lost,” and on other days, I've learned to say, “I feel so moved, I feel so proud, I feel so loved., I feel so strong” All words that I now know I cannot keep to myself, for I now know I am worthy enough to be a part of the song.

Yet, the questions persist:

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

I've strengthened my commitment to my clients by celebrating their stories and their truths and by shedding light on their light. I've unlearned the "rules" force-fed to me and learned to sit with them as a human. I've shown up with openness and a steady backbone so that those I sit with never have to feel alone. I've learned that I must continue to learn for them and stay close to myself while extending my hand and my heart.

Yet, the questions persist:

"Who am I?"

"How do I want to live?"

"What do I want to teach my son?"

My longing, I know, is for clear, linear answers. A part of me that has always sought clarity. I used to say, "I don't like the middle, the unknowns, the what-ifs." Now I know that what-ifs can turn into what can be. As the seasons change, so do I, and so do the answers. Answering the question "Who am I?" "How do I want to live?" "What do I want to teach my son?" varies with each passing day. Some days the answers are short, quick, and easily roll off the tongue, and other days the questions feel too big to tackle.

The desire for answers stems from a history of losing myself. Of losing my motivation, my desires, my voice, my dreams. Of losing my identity and my body’s ability to stay inside itself. Although I keep telling myself that I will once again feel lost, uncertain, scared, and helpless, and that, in fact, I will probably feel all of that later on today, I will also feel other things too. I will also be able to touch the light, witness my son’s joy, share in voices, and not feel alone.

Now, when I think of answering the questions:

Who Am I?
A woman. A mother.

How do I want to live?
Honestly.

What do I want to teach my son?
The way to the heart.

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Words that inspire me:

“We often tell our students, ‘The future’s in your hands.’ But I think the future is actually in your mouth. You have to articulate the world you want to live in, first.” -Ocean Vuong

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To be alive: not just the carcass
But the spark.
That's crudely put, but…
If we're not supposed to dance,
Why all this music?
-Gregory Orr

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“I am my best work - a series of road maps, reports, recipes, doodles, and prayers from the front lines.” — Audre Lorde

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"Love is a combination of care, commitment, knowledge, responsibility, respect and trust.” — Bell Hooks

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And at the end of the day,
the reality is
that whether we
change
or whether we stay
the same
these questions will
remain.
Who are we
to be
with one
another?
and
How are we
to be
with one
another?
-Pádraig Ó Tuama

---

Morning Poem by Mary Oliver

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
aches of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches —
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead—
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted —
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.