As I was driving back from San Francisco, I realized why I was born. I was driving back, alone, a drive I can make in about 5 hours or less, a drive I enjoy. I sing, I think, I snap little pictures, I audioblog for my husband. I scribble little notes.
As I was caterwauling along to a Martina McBride song, I started crying. . . "I was born, to give my love, I was born to give my love, I was born, to give my love, to you. . "
I thought: I know what I am made for. I know my purpose. I know my greatest achievements in this life are not accumulations of accolades, wealth, fame, validation, or stuff.
My greatest wealth comes from those connections I have made, connections of intimacy, support, compassion and strength. I look at my friends, who own nicer cars, lots of property, and sometimes I compare myself to them - what do I have? What can I show for all these years of existence?
My network of love is vast, with roots reaching far back in time, and spanning the globe. I give of myself, without need for acknowledgement, but I acknowledge others. I validate from within. My confidence is born from the knowledge that I operate within a context of love, compassion, patience and pleasure that I create myself. I am known and loved by many friends, not for what I do for a living, or proofs of my awesomeness, but just because I exist. I am me, and that is abundant, and because of this I trust my steps, I trust in the natural sequence of events, I am curious and wondrous about the unravelling story that is my experience of this life.
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