I am often distracted, even consumed by a desire to do something useful, meaningful, something grand by which to be remembered. It is not that I have grand ideas I want to implement for the benefit of mankind, but rather that I want to be one who has such ideas. It is not about the ideas, but rather about my desire to matter in some way to this existence.
Perhaps the problem is I am trying to define my usefulness. We all want to matter and to know we matter. In the vastness that makes us all insignificant, we long to be significant to someone, to matter somehow. We don’t want our existence to go unnoticed.
Perhaps in truth this life is not about the grand things we do or don’t do. Perhaps this life is about the sum of all the little things we do every day.
When I cross paths with someone, that interaction is all that matters in that moment. We all have different experiences, different stories to tell. Whatever I see or don’t see, feel or don’t feel, taste or don’t taste, smell or don’t smell, hear or don’t hear, whatever I experience in that moment becomes my story. Whatever else I have or have not done does not define that interaction. Whatever I give or take in that moment speaks on its own to that person.
We all want to have good stories to tell, stories to which others will listen and affirm as worthy of hearing. Perhaps love is noticing those around you and making them matter to you. When we notice, we give life. To ignore is to take life.
