Wednesday, May 8, 2013


There is a tendency to measure life, to quantify it.

Some measure it in numbers. How much money have I earned? How many friends do I have? How many countries have I visited?

Some quantify it in other ways. How many projects have I completed? How many mountains have I climbed? Even, how many people have I helped?  How many blog entries written? How long lived in one place? How many Christmases?

Quantifying life seems fun when one is young. In our culture, goal setting and completion are like a yardstick for measuring success. Everyone wants to see what he or she can do. Productivity equals value.

There is a part of me that shies away hard from that mindset. Yes, I like reaching goals and accomplishing things as much as anyone. I wonder how natural it really is though. I think of societies where your daily goals are enough food and enough shelter, shared moments with family and friends, a child who is growing strong. I am not idealizing primitive cultures, but I am exploring the worth of our values.

For me, it all comes back to, "What is the purpose of life?"

I certainly don't know. I do know that I don't like relentlessly pursuing things. I also know that I tend to flounder if I am not relentlessly pursuing things.

I think I have some more growth to do.

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