85: A Life That Does Not Have to Be Useful

For much of my life, being useful gave me a sense of purpose.

Someone needed something from me. There was a problem to solve, work to finish, a responsibility to carry, or someone I could help.

Being needed felt meaningful.

There is nothing wrong with this. In fact, much of the meaning in our lives comes from contributing to others. I am grateful for the years when I could work hard, build things, and be useful to many people.

But recently, I have begun to notice another question.

Does everything I do need to be useful?

Sometimes I sing worship songs written by other people. I am not producing anything. Nobody is listening. I am not becoming more successful or contributing to anyone.

Sometimes I simply sing.

And unexpectedly, I feel deeply connected to God. Sometimes I feel His presence without needing to understand anything intellectually. Sometimes tears come.

Nothing has been accomplished.

Yet those moments do not feel empty.

In fact, they sometimes feel more alive than many productive hours.

This has made me wonder how deeply I have connected the value of my life with usefulness.

For many years, the equation was almost automatic:

If I am useful, my time has value.

But perhaps there is another way to live:

My life itself has value, including experiences that produce nothing for anyone else.

That is surprisingly difficult for me to accept.

Even when I make time for myself, I easily turn it into another project. If I sing, perhaps I should become a better singer. If I learn piano, perhaps I should practice systematically. If I write, perhaps it should become a book.

Very quickly, curiosity becomes a goal.

Then the goal becomes a plan.

And soon the open space is full again.

I am beginning to think that this is exactly what I should not do too quickly.

Perhaps some parts of life should remain unexplained and unproductive for a while.

Sing because I want to sing.

Walk somewhere simply because I have never been there.

Spend an hour following an idea without knowing whether it will lead anywhere.

This does not mean turning away from other people.

Strangely, I suspect the opposite may eventually happen.

When we spend our entire lives producing for others, what we give can gradually become repetitive. But when we have enough space to explore our own inner world, something new may grow there.

Eventually, we may have something deeper and more original to offer.

But even that cannot become the reason for everything.

I do not need to enjoy life today so that I can become more useful tomorrow.

Sometimes today is allowed simply to be today.

Perhaps this is one of the transitions I am learning now.

From:

“My life receives its value from being useful to other people.”

toward:

“My life itself has value.”

I still want to contribute. I still want to help people. I still want to create things worth sharing.

But I do not need to turn every curiosity into a project, every experience into an achievement, or every discovery into a destination.

Perhaps for a while, I can simply explore.

Slowly. Curiously. Without needing to turn every discovery into a destination.