Potentials rarely seem to forage a landscape in the light of day, and often their bedside manner remains nearly mute. We hope for some screaming madman who hurls just the right amount of sense to thrust us into action. If only he would hold up a billboard with specific directions and an arrow leading the way.
So often, these messages arrive as silent whispers and faint memories of something that has yet to pass. We strain to hear, if we even notice, and abandon the messages just as quickly.
We come to learn that purpose isn’t some pre-existing destiny, but a series of choices—actions taken—that begin to illuminate it’s evolving form. We are not landed on this rock with some predetermined direction.
We choose it—or we don’t.
Purpose is the result of action, not the preface to it.
In order to hear the subtle voices faint in our hearts, we must lean in; we must quiet ourselves long enough. We must listen as if to hear the first word from a toddlers mouth. We must give space and presence, and we must dwell with patience.
Once we hear the faint voice and make out a few of the words, we must move our mind, our heart, our body, toward the call, leaning further-in to hear but more.
We lean further into ourselves, for this is where the call comes from and not some distant plane beyond our own being.
We cannot know the whole plan for it does not yet exist.
We have not yet created it!