i have fallen in love with Dubuque, IA. it is here that i found my purpose.
inevitable, i suppose. i fall in love quickly. some brick, rolling hills, and a few murals, and i’m sold.
and there’s something else happening here. deeper. bigger.
today i went on a walk through this little town of 55K people. as i walked, i felt an invisible force guiding my movements. if it pushed left, i walked left. thing is, the force kept changing directions. so i walked in funny weaves, off sidewalks, into streets, back onto sidewalks, into alleys. the whole thing felt very unpredictable. it seemed the force wanted to keep reminding me that it was there, doing the guiding. i was simply to follow.
intentionally or not, the sensations brought me to an enormous patch of morning glory, in full bloom of the day.
later, i found myself at the top of a gorgeous hill, surveying the city and reading about the 11th street elevator that was dismantled when ridership declined as humans purchased vehicles.
is the force spiritual? have i learned to listen closely enough to take steps at god’s beckoning? or perhaps, am i beginning to awaken to the notion that my steps are always “decided” about a half-second before i take them — the human animal, becoming aware of themself?
or, perhaps, some completely other explanation?
this entire trip has been an exercise in surrender. i watch myself make decisions, in this body, through these parts of the world. i notice that i can always — always — “explain” my choices, after they have been made. but i almost never actually “understand” my choices.
this is a razor’s edge. i know that i am responsible for my decisions. i am not pleading insanity to any particular question. i will own the outcome and consequences of any choice i make. and, i can do that freely, because i am not afraid of who i am when i let go.
letting go landed me here, in Dubuque.
letting go landed me at the airbnb of Darren, who broke his ribs in a motorcycle accident on July 31. letting go gave me the opportunity to wash his muffin tins, which is an involved task even with an intact ribcage.
is that my purpose? washing a muffin tin for a hobbled airbnb host?
the further down this path i walk, the more i realize that yes, my purpose is always what i am doing now, in this moment.
my role (inasmuch as there is a “me”) is to do precisely whatever i am doing with that level of awareness.
right now i am writing this draft.
later i will reread it and ask “what am i really trying to say”.
then i will edit it.
then, publish.
because this, this is my purpose.
i don’t know why you’re still here, except that it must be your purpose.