To be moved by the fields, one must be able to see the stalks and kernels as eternity. The crows flying above them are in worship of the maker of the fields. Though the horizon is dark, and the winds rage, we know the day will return bright, and the harvest of grain full.
We are not told our purpose in life. We are not born given directions to succeed from a internal voice or billboards. We have goals to become moral, that much is clear to me. We have a clue about how to do that. But to what end? Why not just beat the crap out of people and steal their joy, their livelihoods, their harvest?
I believe that we are born with a sense of right and wrong. Whatever else, we have a natural inclination for goodness, and we are healthier when we are moved by hope. I believe therefore that what our hearts recognize as good means that the life of pillage, theft, assault, do not offer hope, only sorrow. And we might not cognitively understand why, but we do know. A tree doesn't require knowledge of the chemical equations resulting in being fed by its roots. But it still does benefit from such.
There will always be storms on the horizon, whether snow, rain, ice, wind, or dust. We are always going to be tossed by the power of the forces of existence. The purpose I find is found in knowing that life without meaning is absurd. I treasure the fact that I might create purpose for my existence, rather than to allow existence to be me. My life was a gift and if I let it waste, if I ignore my gifts, I am not worthy of that gift of life. I am worthy. I have a destiny to exist, to survive the horrors that existence brings, and go to the place, via my journey, that will redeem me.
Knowing that life is absurd, and wrought with events that can injure me, and distract me, I have to accept that for there to be value in my existence, I must create a purpose.
My purpose is to love others, and to show the world that there is more than simply being. I believe that we must make our world a better place as our purpose. We will then have wrought in the stories and paintings, architecture and sculptures our efforts to make the world better, even new. By having children we explore our own powers of creation, but we create far more than just with that. Every painting's brush stroke, every poem's rhyme, every rock placed properly upon the wall of other rocks, we create.
May you be blessed in your labors, your creations, and hope.