A sense of purpose May 27, 2009

In my life prior to b-school, you probably heard me say, repeatedly, that I wished I could get by just working part time — you know, 20 hours or so a week, just enough for “a sense of purpose.” And what does that even mean? Well, to me it means that I’d have a good mix of obligation (somewhere I HAVE to be and things I HAVE to do when I get there) and free time; or rather, enough obligations to then be able to creatively FILL my free time, if that makes sense. I guess I mean order and structure, but also balance and liberty.

The reason I mention this is that I’ve finally nailed down what’s been so troublesome about this time in Cape Town. Yes, I’m lonely. Yes, it’s foreign here. But is that really it? To be honest… No, I don’t think so. I think if I were uber-busy with school (like I was 12 months ago, for example) I wouldn’t have TIME to feel so lonely and frustrated and culture-shocked.

What I’m missing here isn’t my home and isn’t my friends (though I DO miss you guys!!). What I’m missing is a sense of purpose. School occupies precious little of my time, and it’s (theoretically) the reason I’m here. I’ve made my gym project a serious part of my life here, but that, too, only occupies at MOST 2 hours of my day (more often an hour, though, if I’m being really honest). I’ve also made a special project of sharpening my cooking skills, but that, again, is really only 2 hours a day. And if I’m being really sincere, I would call these things self-indulgent side projects (which is reductive, I know, but reflects how I feel) — distractions, more than anything.

Most people I know would LOVE to have the time (er, the “problem”) that I have. They might even be content filling their time the way that I do (cooking, reading, gym-ing, etc). But I don’t know… I find myself wondering what’s WRONG with me, why I can’t be content with my lovely, simple life here. Is it Super Woman complex? Some kind of bizarre guilt that I’m not filling every hour of every day, AND trying to save the world? (Um, yes, probably.) Is it deeply acculturated American obsession with productivity? (Absolutely. You can’t divorce that sh** in a month.) Am I mad at myself for my own lack of creativity and discipline? (YES.)

In summary, I’m missing a sense of purpose. A raison d’etre, as it were. I feel convinced that the loneliness, discomfort, culture shock — ALL of it — would diminish radically if I felt like there was something I HAD to do here, some way that I HAD to fill my time.

The thing is — this SHOULD be enough. My life is lovely and beautiful here, and WHY should I be so obsessed with “productively” filling my time? Why can’t I just relax and enjoy it? Why do I NEED a sense of purpose? I wish I had an answer for that. I wish I could find that perfect center that they talk about in yoga and just BE here, in the moment, thankful for the time and unconcerned with how much I fill it.

I’m thinking there has to be a happy medium. Maybe I’ll content myself with filling my time the way I have been, or maybe I’ll find more “productive” ways to fill my time — hopefully, it’ll be a little bit of both. And sheesh, it’s not like I’ll EVER have this kind of time again, right? So maybe I need to let go of this whole sense of purpose business, at least for now, and just enjoy this beautiful city, eh?