In the noise, the quiet of all the sound,

I notice the small things that happen quickly and with great force.

The thousands of choices, all witnessed now in this moment. The rhythm of the way your hands sway back and forth. The tan line that gently caresses your finger, a thick band of color missing. This is new.

You eating alone in a corner, glancing self-consciously around as you, pausing with your fork in your hand, stabbing at the pieces of your salad, reaching across the aisle to clean the glasses of a child. You take a bite, and pause wistfully. People look confused, everywhere. Lost, looking, searching for something. What could this be?

Purpose. It is one of those words that people throw out, without considering. What does it really mean to discover purpose?

Is it a way to get through each day, a reminder that cascades of pain and joy are more than just the random and rapid firing of neurons?

Choices, the sports that we play, the way we present ourselves to the world, the tone we choose to use to talk to that loved one, or one who isn’t loved anymore.

Above all, recognize that these are precious, worthy, of respect. It is easy to say, yes?

There are those that grasp for kindness, who have known nothing but the explosiveness of life, the bitter let-downs of what love was supposed to be. So now this crazy idea, are people put in your life for a reason? Do you have an obligation to love people? To at least put forth every good faith? To take the opportunities that seem like curses at the time? I never considered that it wasn’t you, but maybe it was her.

I don’t believe in coincidences.