Determination separated from its created purpose is a torturous device.

And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, ²⁷ that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, ²⁸ for

‘In him we live and move and have our being’ (Acts 17:26-28a)

Of Motivation

What so thoroughly drives the human heart to invest purpose in unfamiliar soil (metaphorically speaking, an unrealized and thus fantastical future conjoined with those socially pervasive—yet often imperceptible—extrinsic expectations)? Essentially, how can one expect to succeed in the furrowing of clay, the harnessing of irrigative waters, the sowing of seed and the reaping its produce if unacquainted with the ‘earth,’ the very source of its subsistence? I am drawing a parallel but one that I believe to be of pertinence and immense value insofar as I am destitute and in need.

As a general rule it might be alleged that individuals rarely desire that of which they are innately aware, and thus, seldom know what they actually desire. For example, I am acutely aware of my eyes given that they provide me with sight. I would not likely say that I desire sight since I believe that I have it. In truth, I take it for granted, and my actual desire for sight is nearly nullified by the awareness thereof. The degree to which I truly desire sight is perhaps only revealed once it has been taken away. Were it merely a matter of cognizance, I should consider all humankind capable of obtaining their deepest longings; however, sagacity demands far more. I doubt any temporal being capable of rendering desired results if constricted entirely to the limitations of his own labour; for, when did acumen ever accomplish a task that was not first built on some previously provided principle or immutable foundation?

Therein, I suggest, remains the fundamental veracity of life’s ultimate aim: devoting ourselves to that which is preeminently antecedent. The hope for our soul’s most paramount desire is inexorably woven—and I hope you’ll pardon the poetic device—into the fabric of our existence. So intimately infused in our making is this hope, that it casts a shadow upon every other quasi substantiated objective we follow. Sadly, because so few choose to ardently pursue, or even give credence to the costliness of its foundation, many consequently find the attainment of their authentic desires virtually elusive.  To be precise, we know not what we want but go on hoping for it anyway. Such a pitiable state is tantamount to a terminally ill patient poignantly wishing to live, having never tasted what it means to be alive.

Oh that I might be loosed from the fetters of fatalism and façade, to be freed in the wild, unbridled liberty of predestined determination, and there to find my Maker.