Being Called

You see, we are all called to be someone. We’ve been called out of the fairy dust of pre-creation, where golden light showered a dark universe making distinctions and therefore allowing for goodness, and beauty and purpose. It is from this, which still exists out in the dark space just beyond our reach, and from nothing less than this, that our essence is called forth. I do believe that. And then we embody this earth, a mixture of fog and memory, of confusion and clarity, looking for this calling. Looking for our purpose. Looking. Yearning. Knowing somehow that there is more to what seems to be. Knowing, somehow.

There is more to what seems to be.

Some people are called upon to engage, to make connections with one another, to build relationships. There is a fascination with the story, the personal imperfections, the drama of life. These people are good at making friends, of gathering people to create minyans, community of people who share and chat and are involved. They are liked because they like in return. They are masters of biography and personal detail. They remember what they are told. They can talk for prolonged moments about daily life, fascinated with the details of the person before them. Conversation is natural and the vehicle for a true human encounter. And in the human encounter is where they find meaning. Godliness.

Some people are called upon to ponder, reflect and contemplate. To bear witness and then to proclaim the inner stirrings of the heart. To articulate. A rare and magical power where words and artistic expression remove the veil of the ineffable for a flash of a moment. Most of the time, however they seem distant in a crowd. They are distracted by the reading of the souls and by the stirrings of their own heart. They are busy imaging, dreaming, noticing. Sometimes too busy to say hi, or to remember a name or the last conversation. They know you, not by name but by the complexities of your soul. They see through you into the bedrock of your being. They seem to know what holds you up, what knocks you down, what gets in your way, what gives you hope. But not what grade your child is in, or how many grandchildren you have. They are students of suffering, of pain, of the human condition, of goodness, of hope, of possibility.

Each of us has our place. Called from the ether to make a difference. Each of us searches for some kind of revelation, transcendent or otherwise. And every one of us requires forgiveness, our humanity making us stumble as we try so faithfully to live our life’s purpose.