I’ve been thinking about purpose, and how everyone needs to know that their life has some small meaning, and that perhaps all of us humans would like to know that we left some small mark on the world. I’ve been thinking about how that purpose, that mission, need not be some great, overarching ambition, but something very small. (When the news is overwhelming, I always go back to the very small.) 

And I can’t quite pin down what my purpose is. I think it should be easy; I should know it by now. 

I think it has something to do with things that make me shy to admit in public, things that might sound cheesy and hippyish and even bland, like transmitting love and making people feel, even for a fleeting moment, that they are not alone, and throwing my hat into the ring of possibility. I’d like to be on the side of can, rather than can’t. I want to encourage people, especially the young ones. I want to say - you can write a book, and you can have a happy horse, and you can colour outside the lines. I’d like to write, on a great big existential sign: you don’t have to be the same as everyone else. You can follow your own goofy star, and watch it shine brightly. 

I’d like that.