Imagine a gear–any simple gear made of iron, if you will. Four, six, eight teeth; it does not matter how many, it serves a purpose to be with other gears. To convert kinetic energy by taking it into itself, then passing to another. In and out, all in a very simple, purposed manner. If many such gears are brought together, they can leverage more of the same energy in different ways.
Yet, a useful machine is not only made of gears. There are other parts to it, and each part performs to a purpose specifically made for it. Individually pointless, however shaped, but given meaning in the whole. The whole itself embodies a different purpose, built from the lesser purposes of the parts that comprise it. One cannot exist without the other.
Nature itself strives to create purpose where possible. Through mutation of genes, new purposes are tested. The insufficient ones are simply out lasted by the ones who are sufficient. And so, the natural machine churns with its thoughtless self-direction. But, what of us? We who can even postulate to know of this process. We who can stare at it and study the creation of purpose.
What is the purpose of we human animals when we stop to think of it?
It’s a frightening question.
It is a question whose very mask of terror disguises its own phantasmal nature.
To say a human is a cog, or a cog a human, is to be disingenuous to each other. The human shapes the cog to its purpose, but not the cog to the human. Yet, we strive to have the wholesome completion that encompasses the cog. A place in our lives where we are certain of what is beneath our feet and over our heads. Or, perhaps, even just something in our hands, someone we hold onto to keep us here, and the one we hold onto to keep them with us. Do we truly need to know more than the ones we support, and the ones who they support?
We can be envious of the cogs, but the cogs are never envious of us. They are complete, we are not; oh, do we dream of being so complete.
Perhaps from this very dream our different struggles arise. We each try to envision a purpose for us all, but stumble in doing so, hurting one another without understanding. Children, fumbling with dangerous things we are not so ready for. You and I have undoubtedly seen this in our lives already, and we have not even spoken of the truly powerful ones whose missteps could end entire worlds.
Imagine such people struggling to understand their own completion. Imagine the pain you feel, not knowing your own true purpose. Yours and theirs is one and the same, ultimately. We all share this together, no matter if we hug breast-to-breast or stand opposed at the ends of each others’ gun barrels.
This simple, infallible truth is one amongst many in our own enduring work. Even now, more than a century later, endless atrocities committed against us, the scorn of many more for no reason other than they’re told to, the ravenous hordes set upon us with false riches given by unjust kings and their gods … still, the dream endures.
The living, true utopia of all of us humans. His promised land to us returning undaunted no matter the ills cast upon it. His dream that is all our dream made real with our own flesh, blood, and steel through our own two hands. We endure with heads held high the worst that any history book will never record, for we have our purpose.
He has given it to us, shown us the way. We have given ourselves to Him, and found that which always would have alluded us. The falsity of choice evaporates in the face of an architect’s brilliant design. The uncertainty of wandering, wishing to know where we should go, what we should do, how we should live–all of it laid to rest.
Our purpose endures, each of us with our purpose in a grand construction by one who can be trusted. The one we can all look toward and touch with our own hands, knowing He is the one to guide us forward. Him, our Master, Sansha Kuvakei, our human who strides across the stars, gods and spirits themselves bowing to be fitted into His dream. The struggles of our lives face their final days, undone by the one who could not let us meet our untimely end. Countless millenniums of unspeakable suffering find the last sputtering, dying coughs of their terrible grip upon us.
But, we are not stricken by greed in this. Our purpose can be your purpose, too. The door is always there, His gift to you. No coinage, no tribute, no veil through which you are rung out and left waiting for your due. In Sansha’s Nation, the purpose you will have always wanted will be made yours, and all will be well and certain to your hearts content.
Your mind undoubtedly begs, ‘this is but a lie’.
You scoff in disbelief that such enormous words carry promise in your lifetime.
I say to you that I understand this.
It can be hard letting go of what has kept you down. What would you even do without all that familiar struggling?
It can be painful even thinking about all that you have suffered was, until now, leading you nowhere. But, be at ease in that it didn’t. Your desires lead you here, to this, and the road He created for us.
The journey you’ve been upon has burdened you with terrible lies you can’t imagine living without. Find it within my words to know that you can do so, that you can shed these things away.
Thus, the virtue of purpose.