Purpose

I woke up this morning thinking about how everyone is here for a purpose – or so some believe. And for some reason, I immediately thought about a man I knew a few years ago. He was a nice guy, but his life seemed pretty messed up to me. He was way overweight, he drank too much, he was a big time womanizer, lived with his mother and he was always broke.

I wondered what his purpose might be.

Later in the day, feeling kind of low, I stood in front of my rather large library – the religion and philosophy section — looking for a book to read a few passages from for inspiration. The book that caught my eye was neither religious nor philosophical. In fact, it was misplaced. It was titled Women Incendiaries — an historical account of the women of the Paris Commune Revolution of 1871.

Interested as I am in women’s rights, I decided to read a chapter, thinking I might find something useful for my own women’s empowerment campaign.

I wasn’t disappointed. The work was well written and documented, I found the material energizing – just the inspiration I needed to get back to my own work.

I removed a bookmark from the back of the book to mark my place and noticed the bookmark was actually a business card from where I bought the book. A café owned by a woman in Upper Harlem. A woman introduced to me by the man I thought about earlier in the day.

 

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