Why do we exist?

Please join me, dear friend, for a quiet moment on the beach.

It's early morning and soon the crowds will come, but for just a few moments, we are alone. In these few moments, we can focus on finding our center, aligning our chakras, cleansing our prana, on breathing and being one with nature. 

Stay with me my friend, let's draw in this serenity for a few moments, this peace. Soon we shall speak.

Okay, my friend, in that moment of silence, did you find peace?

For me, for a moment, I was drawn to a place and time far away, to that first moment when, as a little girl, I looked up at the night sky, and wondered, who am I?

Who Are We?

Who are we but tiny threads in a magnificent design that spins continuously?

What we are as man but one among infinite grains of sand?

A thread. Sand. A moment in time. I am.

And so, as I remind myself of who I am, it follows naturally that I must address the question of why I am.

And so, pray tell, my friend, indulge me: Why are we?

Why Are We?

I once asked an elderly woman I knew to explain the purpose of life, and she said to me rather mysteriously, "Life is love."

Is it?

Does this answer the question of why we exist?

We live to love. Then, if life is love, what is love?

• Is love simply an emotion that's selective, that's preferential?

• Is love a feeling that can sometimes be judgemental?

• Is love found in negativity?

• Or is it that love is divine while hatred and envy are stains that threaten to taint its beauty?

If we can agree that love is found in peace and serenity and acceptance and in embracing the beauty of our diversity, then tell me, friend, how do we?

Please allow me this moment to recognize and thank my generous sponsors for whose 
support I am eternally grateful. 

How do we?

Indulge me please just one moment more as I share with you the story of a little bird I once saw with a broken wing.

The bird couldn't fly, she just kept edging forward- one side heavy, one anxious wing flapping.

Behind her in the grass, her nest had fallen. Her eggs lay scattered, broken on the ground, and yet this little bird refused to lie down. She kept flapping her one good wing.

I was afraid of birds, but I took I took her home and nursed her back to health. Did I do the wrong thing?

Would it have been love, my friend, to put her out of her misery?

What would it have said about me if I had cruelly kicked that bird with the broken wing, or done nothing at all other than to stand there pontificating on my wisdom and justifying my indifference by blaming the bird for the nest that had fallen?

How do we fulfill our purpose if that purpose is to love?

Or should we not care for love at all?

Well, my friend, I thank you for your time and leave you with this as food for thought.

Today is Glorious Saturday and I pray that you enjoy a glorious day.

In advance, I bid you a happy Easter and buen fin de semana!