The Side Effects of Endorphins

Mission Admission

I readily admit, I have no calling or predefined mission. I wrote about that earlier today and I’ll include it at the end of this diatribe.

I rather admit, I am not the center of the universe. My mission is not about me. It’s about We as people we as a planet.

I know that’s cliche

I usually fire off an answer to these prompts immediately without much thought. Today I read the prompt, had breakfast, did the dishes emptied the dishwasher made the bed, let the dog out and wrote a movie review about the movie I saw last night. That was my mission for that hour.

I didn’t find my mission

And I truly don’t know what my mission is. It wasn’t in the dishwasher and wasn’t in my vegan scrambled eggs.

Lurking

Out there somewhere there is the perfect story the perfect poem the perfect song. I’m not religious. In my opinion, if there is art or music that moves you to tears. That may be God. Well, at least my God.

The world is an unfair place and my goal to make it less unfair.

Mission Statement

When I was in grad school, almost every company in their mission statement had this sentence.

Maximize shareholder wealth.

I know that’s not even a sentence. It’s a command.

It is ridiculous and destructive.

Nuance

My mission defined is in the perfect story. Not only the story I put on paper, but that story that we call life. I’m still writing it.

On a Lack of a Mission