“Tell me your purpose.” She says that in a quiet way, in a gentle way, in a way that invites me to open my heart to her.
“Sophia, my heart might tell you one of my true aims, my soul might tell you another of my true aims, and my spirit might tell you yet another. Who am I to say where my true purpose lies?” She turns around to look at me, frowning, as if to tell me that I’ve let myself off the hook too easily with my glib answer.
“What do you want, Christos? Knowing who and what you are, knowing what you have, knowing what you do, and knowing what you’ve become, what is it that you want more than anything else in the world? What is it that motivates your days and nights, what is it that compels you to prevail in spite of hardship, what is it that takes you into the depths of your soul and to the heights of your spirit?”
I sigh and walk away from her. Her questioning is relentless, but not unwelcome. We both know how important it is to articulate a central purpose in life that would organize and integrate everything that I am, all that I do, everything that I have, and all that I seek to become. I walk through a door onto a balcony overlooking a cityscape at night. The sky is clear and a cool breeze teases my face. I cannot escape from her here; our most intimate of links keeps us in constant contact. I tell her, in the privacy of my own mind, in no uncertain terms, that I am ignorant: “Sophia, I simply do not know.”
“You do know; you simply have yet to put it into words.” I close my eyes, feeling a rush of desire in response to the intimate, erotic tone of her words – words that flow like warm honey into my awareness, as they always do when we separate from each other spatially. My sensitivity to the cool breeze heightens. Goosebumps run up and down my back like a caress.
“Where do I begin?” I reply weakly.
Soft laughter bubbles up inside me. “You begin at the beginning, my precious one.”
