Where can I find meaning?

Where can I find meaning?

Is it covered by the clouds, or hidden behind the sun?

Is it at the end of the rainbows, or on top of the highest mountain?

Is it at the foot of a pyramid, or concealed in a rock or boulder?

How did others find meaning - such that lasts?

Is it under the priest's cassock or a nun's veil?

Is it tied in the string of a preacher's words, or squeezed between a writer's lines?

Is it at the tip of a child's smile, or in the breath of a dying old man?

And what if I would be able to see behind the clouds and the sun,

reach the end of the rainbows, and stand at the peak of the highest mountain,

lift pyramids, and crack all the rocks and boulders in the world?

Or what if I could look under a priest's cassock or a nun's veil,

unknot a preacher's words, and get in between a writer's lines,

touch the tip of a child's smile, and catch the breath of a dying old man?

Would I know if it's meaning I would behold or hold in my hand?
Would I know that I have found it?

Why are you here?

"Why am I here," used to be the question I utter first thing in the morning. Even before I stretched out my muscles, I would sense the heaviness of my every breath. I would tell myself, "I am alive," and know at the back of my mind that it's for a purpose.

My everyday used to feel like a chase for "purpose." For some reason, I felt like my purpose was hiding from me. I thought it was a hopeless search. I've tried looking for it in my current job, with the people I love, through distant strangers, by the rocks I had stumbled upon, between the words of the books I read, within the context of occurrences and even going beyond and outside the boxes. I was so eager to find it! but only to find out that each path was a dead end. I was not happy.

One afternoon, I decided to breathe all my questions out to God. That time I was in a chapel with the person closest to my heart; he was praying beside me. The chapel was enormous, or maybe solely in my sight. Yet I was sure, the place was filled with an air of reverence - silent but not ringing silence. The place was tranquil, I must say. I then lifted my eyes to its ceiling, somehow facing the heaven . . . or maybe, searching for heaven. Then in my mind, I called, "Lord."

That moment, I felt like His eyes met mine and that we just had an eye contact. From my spiritual periphery, I saw His cheeks lifting and His lips was spreading to a smile. I never had an eye contact so blind yet assuring akin to that. It was wonderful.

His bright smile magnified the darkness of my heart, though. And that was when I started throwing Him a multitude of questions. I honestly cannot remember what those were, but I can still vividly recall how it felt to have my baggage gradually pulled away from me, making me light and having my knees bear only my weight. Oh, God was so patient with me.

Today, I must admit that I still don't know exactly why I am here. And I don't think I will ever know it. However, after that encounter, God made me realize that life should not be a chase for purpose - it is fulfilling whatever it may be in any way possible. So how can I live by my purpose? Two things: 1) Live my way. 2) Love my way. Maybe the reason why God made me different from others is because I have a special purpose which can only be fulfilled through exactly being me.

Now, all God wants is for me to hold His hand and together, we keep moving. The road may seem dangerous, narrow or steep, but I should keep moving. Even when we might seem lost or we seem to need to retrace our steps or turn around, I should just keep moving.

Since then, whenever rough days come and push me to asking, "Why am I here?" I would look heavenward, imagine God smiling and saying, "Just hold my hand, and trust that You are where I want you to be."