At some point during my pre-teen or early teenage years, I became aware. Astutely aware. I became aware that I was on this planet for a reason, and that my life had a purpose (beyond being an example for others not to follow). I had no idea what that reason was, how the purpose had been assigned, or how I was supposed to go about fulfilling it.

Fast forward 7-10 years later to the current day. As I look around at the world and its most “advanced” inhabitants, I see an eyesore… to say the least. Here we humans stand, as the only species possessing a brain capable of studying itself, yet we haven’t even managed to live peacefully without dividing ourselves into territories (and even then, we still have our quarrels). People are murdered simply for being different; money is stolen not for a greater good, but for an addictive psychotic high. The rich grow richer, the poor grow poorer, the powerful stay on top (until a scandal sends them crashing to the bottom) and the oppressed remain so. We pollute our only home like it’s a dime a dozen, all in the name of “productivity.” Our societies are run not by love, joy and peace, but by greed, fear and anger.

And every bit of it pisses me off.

I still have no idea what exactly I’m doing on this weird planet known as Earth, but I’m slowly beginning to figure it out. My mission, should I choose to accept it (and believe me, I do), is to make it all work. Not necessarily “make it work” as in tangibly be a part of every effort to improve the world, but rather see to it that major changes take place. Whether I’m spearheading a given effort, working behind the scenes, or gazing in the audience doesn’t really matter to me — just as long as it happens. Although, admittedly, not many other people have the blind audacity needed to tackle a pursuit of this caliber!

I’m not trying to be God; that’s God’s job. On the contrary, I believe that God is the one responsible for sending me on this mission in the first place, and I have no intention of going about it without some divine assistance.

Delusional? I never claimed to be normal. Normal is for the weak.

A mission like this can only end in one of two ways — spectacular success or spectacular failure:
1) By the time I’m finished, this world (and this universe, if necessary) will be a place that anyone would be proud and honored to show his/her children. We will be united with each other, not against each other, and we will have learned how to live without decimating our homes and our bodies. (Success)
2) By the time I’m finished, I’ll have realized that my original perception of the world was completely flawed, and that the world we now live in is, as nearly as possible… perfect. (”Failure”)

I am fully willing to accept that we may be far better off than I imagine. But mark my words: If the world does indeed have problems, I’ll be damned if they aren’t going to get fixed. Failure in that respect is not an option.

But here’s the kicker: I can’t do it alone. Rest assured that someday, I will be asking for your help… or maybe it’s you that will be asking for mine. Maybe it’s not my mission after all…

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