Life has a purpose, right?

I have admittedly grown a bit cynical in third decade of my life, but I still believe the affirmative answer to this question is true. Whether there is one set meaning for all life, or if each individual life holds its own unique and wonderful purpose: this is not so clear to me. But there is some point to it all, of that I am convinced. So, assuming the individuated answer is at least not untrue, then the principal question becomes “What is the purpose of my life?” It is not just a question to ponder in moments of soused philosophising; it is the Question. My life is the story of that Question, and of my pursuit of the ever-elusive (and ever-changing) answer. Will there be a final answer: I won’t really know until my time is up, will I?

Amateur holiness

It has now been seven years since I packed my worldly possessions and left the seminary, walking through the doors into a world that I was ill-prepared to live in. In some ways I am still leaving, still struggling through a painful and disorienting process that I keep thinking should be over by now, but…

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Where going?

Well, now what do I do? It is a new year, a year that will contain, among other milestones, my son’s second birthday, the fifth anniversary of my first date with the young woman who is now my wife, and the thirtieth anniversary of my conception. Yes, time is flying. In a year and a…

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What does it mean to provide? To be a provider? I am the sole provider for my young family, by which is meant that my twice-monthly paycheck as all the pecuniary influx to our familial coffers, and by extension all that lies between us and starvation and death. Unduly melodramatic, of course (when am I…

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