I've been thinking. Why was I created and why was I chosen to live as a human on this big blue marble we call Earth? What is the purpose of my life? How long will I live and who or what gets to decide when I die? Is my job, purpose, destiny or God's direction for me to make an everlasting stamp on this world or is it simply to exist? What is my meaning of life?

My understanding of existentialism is to leave a piece of me on this world when I pass - to make a difference which lasts longer than I last in this world. Some do it through creating male children who carry their family name into the future. Few Americans are disappointed when a daughter is born but continue to conceive desiring a boy to carry the family's surname into the next generation. Some cultures murder their daughters waiting on the birth of a boy-child to ensure their family lineage is carried into their future. Existentialism's drive is seductive and controlling.

The desire to leave a piece of us, a piece of me behind when I die motivates and corrupts. Some people write books, create philanthropic societies or change their local community by creating parks, clubs or recreation centers. Some people murder celebrities, donate money to colleges and libraries for naming rights of a building while others kill prostitutes for the betterment of society or become politicians and create bills and laws which last past their term in office.

Think hard. Who was the 23rd president of the United States? Now another test; who killed President Lincoln? John Wilkes Booth readily comes to mind when one thinks of the death of President Lincoln while one struggles to remember anything positive achieved by the 23rd president of the United States of America - Benjamin Harrison. One might remember Booth for extinguishing the life-candle of one of this nation's most popular presidents while forgetting President Harrison due to his one notable failure; increasing the federal annual spending to $1 billion for the first time in history - ouch! The existential importance of a person lies in the memory of the act, not in the act itself.

As I think, I begin to understand. As I understand, I know. What I know is my truth. My truth I own. It is my belief, my reality, what I know to be true for me. One might tell me to change me because my behavior is not congruent with their belief of me - smile more, be more serious, be more congenial, more studious, more pensive or less intense. I should change who I am for their comfort - to become their macaroni and cheese or warm quilt on a snowy day. Some of my closest friends and the people I love deserve this of me. Most do not. I have a life direction that I am not willing to change for another's comfort.

I did not have one important, meaningful thought from the age of 12 to the age of 17. As a 6-year-old little boy with a raccoon freckled-face, husky jeans, worn converse sneakers and a toothless smile, I remember playing with my best friend Bernadine. She and I would lay on our backs on warm July afternoons, naming the animals we see in the cumulous and cirrus clouds floating above. I still remember how the sun felt on my face, the ants crawling on my sleeveless arm, wondering how clouds float, why the sky is blue and if the billowy elephants and aardvarks floating above will make rain to cool our tanned, warm skin.

I still love the rain! Now when it rains I consciously think; should I wear a raincoat or my leather coat, are the car windows rolled up, what's in the yard that might suffer from water, should I turn off the automatic sprinklers in the yard, does the rain mean snow is on the way? I can't wait to get home from work to cuddle in my warm quilt by the fire. As an adult, I now first think pragmatically then allow myself to dream about my comfort.

My brain stopped working when my hormones turned on. As a child I thought constantly and questioned everything. As a post-pubescent adolescent, I seldom thought and became unpredictably emotional. I had no idea of my future and seldom thought who I wanted to be, what I wanted from life, who was important in my world and seldom appreciated the graciousness of friends and family. Then I woke up.

I remember taking a slow ride at age 17 and talking with my father as we drove through California's delta country in our tiny, Ford Currier pickup truck. Merle Haggard was singing, "Momma Tried" on the radio. Dad sang along with Merle and I wondered what the words meant. I started to regain my childhood inquisitiveness and began to wonder.

"one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.

That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried."

At 17 I began to think. I knew I wasn't the boy my mom wanted me to be but I started to try. I wondered about my future, who controlled my future and started to understand the me I wished to become. I took charge of my life and made decisions for the betterment of me. I decided to make a permanent footprint on this world and began to seek ways to make the world a better place. I failed often and hurt when my intent was to help. I carelessly put others down when my goal was to lift them up, but I tried.

What does life mean to me? Life is purposeful. Without a purpose one might as well be a mouse running from the open jaws of a python. One must decide one's life focus - what is important, who are you, why are you here, how can you make your time on Earth important? Spiritually we must ask, "What is my creator's purpose for me?" Am I living a life that has purpose or am I merely running the treadmill of a hamster heading nowhere but expending energy and wasting time?

Life takes thought. Letting life happen creates a failure of control and lack of purpose. Deciding what one's life should be and leaving something positive of importance behind after one's death creates a meaningful life. Today, and for the rest of my life; I will think!

Bill Rutherford is a psychotherapist, public speaker, elementary school counselor, adjunct college psychology instructor and executive chef, and owner of Rutherford Education Group. Please email him at [email protected] or visit www.dietingwithdignity.com.