The Lavah says that I should send something every day to my blog. I don’t even know what I would say on a daily basis that I could blog. I talk all day, of course. But then, do I talk all day? I definitely think all day, and some days are about talk, but most days are about thinking and writing, and other things, business related things and hanging on the phone anxiously hoping that some or other bigwig will pick up and listen and deliver on whatever it is that I want. That’s what I do with my days. Talk? Actually, when I think about it there are some days where hardly a word is uttered to another human being. Weird, huh!
To say that I was silent, of course, would be untrue. I have discovered myself to be a person completely and utterly incapable of being silent, even when alone. Things just seem to pop out of my mouth, unbidden. I went on a retreat once. It was five days of total silence except in the workshops. This means that the workshop facilitator will decide whether or not you speak, and if he deems what you’re saying to be irrelevant, he’ll shut you down. This meant that you only spoke in response to a question posed by him, and you responded for the benefit of the group. You didn’t just talk. Well, at the beginning of each workshop people were asked if there was anything of relevance that they wanted to express as a result of the previous days deliberations. You could see those who had been good silent retreatees, and were now desperate.
I wasn’t desperate. I talked. I couldn’t help it. I’d be walking across the field to or from the ablution block and I’d here “Shhhhh”, and I’d wonder who was being shushed. It was me. I was speak-thinking. This was not allowed. “Ooops! Sorry”! But you’re not allowed to speak-speak either, so my “Ooops! Sorry”! would be rewarded with another “Shhhhhh”. So I would indicate my “Ooops! Sorry”! by doing a mime, which consisted of obsequious bowing of my head, little shrug of my shoulders, prayer hands on lips.
I was pondering. That’s why we were all there, to ponder the meaning of stuff. What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of our own lives? What is our level of resonating with the universe? What is our ultimate purpose? What is our super purpose? It was five days. Who can be silent for five days? I can’t. I’ve proved it.
When I was at Drama School we had to be inanimate objects for a Stanislavsky class. My friend, Alex decided to be a football. So she rolled her body, as far as possible into a ball and was asked; ‘what is your purpose’, to which the response, of course, was, ‘to be kicked’. Then she was asked ‘what is your super purpose’. To which her response was, ‘I don’t have one, I’m a football’. I thought that was hilarious, so I was kicked out of the class for laughing.
I never got to demonstrate my purpose or super purpose as an inanimate object in Stanislavsky class, which I’m sure accounted for my need for the retreat. I mean, if I couldn’t find a purpose and super purpose as an inanimate object, how could I ever hope to find one as a living, breathing, loving, conscious human being? And quite frankly, while I was searching for my purpose and super purpose as an inanimate object I couldn’t help but wonder if my ultimate purpose or super purpose could continue to have anything to do with acting. My impatience with the Stanislavsky class gave my enthusiasm for the art of acting as a sensible pass time and course of study for a 20 something yr old woman a bit of a wobble. I understand Marilyn Monroe swore by Stanslavsky. But that’s Marilyn.
So anyway, be it a sign of madness or be it a sign of burgeoning wisdoms balking at the very notion of being contained, I talk to myself. This is why The Lavah thinks I should have something to write about every day. I have the time. Well, for the moment, while I’m in ‘wait’ mode, I have the time. I won’t blog every day, though. I mean, what would be the purpose, or super purpose in that?
Nocturnal Ramblings of a Mind Unplugged 
I will probably be criticized by people who believe that they have a super-purpose in life. That kind of thing leaves me bewildered. You can do things for a purpose, even a super-purpose if you will, to achieve an objective or a goal.
But the moment people begin talking about their lives having a super-purpose then I suspect some heavy brainwashing is behind that.
Women have been manipulated by men since recorded ancient times with the line “your purpose (function) is to have children, keep house and obey your lord and master” (or words to that effect). They are smarter now and fewer buy into the con.
Men have also been manipulated by being called on to serve some higher purpose. such as serving (and cheerfully dying for) their leader/king/country/God (or gods)/religion/culture. Sartre’s ultimate slaves.
When somebody else comes along and assures you that your super-purpose is to serve someone or something else (animate or inanimate, tangible or metaphysical) then you should take a shrink couch rain-check. A human serving a super-purpose implies predestination, fatalism and, generally, one or other form of blind obedience. We call it slavery.
Sacrificing yourself for a cause you believe in is fine, often noble. But there are a number of psychological problem labels attached to believing the egg that hatched you was touched by a divine finger that keeps prodding you along in life to fulfill some higher purpose.
At best we get to live and make the best we can of the living. And maybe have some fun along the way. So carry on living free Tselane. I heartily applaud the way you face the world with respect but without undue reverence.