Last Words #1: Have You Ever Tried Writing Your Own Obituary?
The problem with a purpose-driven life.
A softer, more melancholic space—because by looking at death, I believe we experience life more vividly. Elegy and obituary, beautiful words both, language for the abyss.
One day, your life story will be written as an obituary. If you read obituaries as compulsively as I do, you’ll see that what comes through amongst the details of where we lived and what we did—shining in the simple lines that sum up our lives—is not our purpose.
But love.
What we loved. Who we loved. Who loved us.
In her gorgeous piece, The MYTH of Purpose, Donna McArthur sums up the problem with purpose: I agree because the idea of a deep, singular objective doesn’t marry with what I read in the obituaries.
How about we just ditch this whole idea of a purpose-driven life that was probably mostly created by the internet? Let us push back on the mainstream fabrication that claims a well-lived life must be guided by a deep, singular objective that just might change the world. Says who?
The idea of living a life of purpose is self-help gone bad (IMHO).
However, like most fairytales, there may be a kernel of truth buried in it and I think the important thing is to make most of our days carry meaning.
Not only does purpose shift as I change and age, but it slips away as soon as I try to name it because some other shiny possibility catches my eye. But meaning. That’s interesting.
So if purpose is an itchy sweater that most of us force on, hating that scratchy feel against our skin, the question arises: what’s important in our lives?
One of my favorite teachers Cory Muscara says rather than ask “What do I want to do for the rest of my life” try “What do I feel inspired to explore more deeply at THIS point in my life”? When I hear it that way I feel enriched rather than stressed about figuring it out, I hope you do too.
Donna McArthur
When I ask myself what’s next—what I want to do, what I long for—I’m driven by curiosity and by an inner sense of what feels good.
This is love, I believe.
It’s probably why I read the obituaries, because words are how I understand the world, and I can glimpse the ordinary lives of people who have loved and been loved for themselves.
Although I’ve never tried it, this brings me to the dark and challenging task of writing my own obituary as a writing exercise. I invite you to try it, too.
The mystery of purpose magnifies then fades as I consider this.
In my obituary, one day, perhaps it will list my accomplishments and say:
Writer, mother, coach, celebrant…
And it will also say:
Loved her children, her partner, Yann, her family, and her dog.
Deep breath if you’re writing your own. That unyielding notion that we need to be driven by a purpose to matter, is wrong, perhaps. But the idea that our days need to carry meaning, holds a truth.
At least, it does when I flip the pages to read the obituaries again.
I hope my obituary will also say:
She was loved in return.
You?
xoxo
Alice
PS: Could you share a poem with me or words that you find inspiring (see mine for you below)? And please, if you enjoyed thinking about this with me, please share with someone you think would enjoy reading it, too.
If you’re new here, my name is Alice Kuipers and I’m a writer, mother and dog-owner transplanted twenty years ago to the Canadian prairies from England. I’ve published fourteen books in 36 countries and my writing has been described as: “For storytellers and story lovers,” by Kirkus Reviews; ‘Gorgeous, heart-ripping, important,” by VOYA; and “Intense and wonderful” by Bif Naked.
Join me for Little Life Lists and possibly more Short Death Stories…
Poetry has answers sometimes for the big questions. This is where my soul has snagged this week.
Obituary
For Lillian
Died: Our vows to love, honor, and cherish.
Time: Left suddenly on a bright summer day
Cause of Death: misgivings, duplicity
and lack of faith.
The dearly departed left behind
a discarded lover
who has inherited an estate of left over memories
and a grievous soul.
The deceased will be remembered
for the laughter and joy
that had brought us together
in a happier time.
Services will be held in the heart,
its body interred in the past.
Please send no flowers.
This was a comforting read. I’ve struggled for so long with the idea of finding my purpose or calling in life, and feeling like I’m not as far along my journey as others. What I’ve started to realise recently though, is that what makes me truly happy and at peace, is the time I spent with my wife. The little things we do, the ‘mundane’ moments, the everyday, normal stuff. That’s what it’s all about and where I find my peace.
I am just now reading others work after being away from writing for almost a year. There are so many wonderful Women Writer's here 😊 making the process of sorting reading lists...well long. I have made many Writer's recommendations and even provided blurbs for each. I always wondered if my effort was in vain. Now I see Substack taskmasters have implemented a great variety of methods to form collaborations and share & recommend! Yes Alice I will be sorting and gently purging through the talent here. Yes and thank you for your lovely comment regarding my tombstone share