February 7, 2015

MOTIVE #1?

Does everything we do - have to have a motive?

When I watch NCIS or other detective TV program,

it usually begins with a crime. Then the lead

detective arrives and they begin asking, “Motive?”

Don’t we detectives say the same thing every day, “Motive?”

“Why did she say that? “Why did he do that?”

“What’s going on here?” “Why did I do what I did?”

Motive? Motive? Why? Why? Motive? Motive?

Then - when - we start thinking, we find out,

behind that inner why, that inner cry, is the

simple answer, “Something was missing.”

When empty, we want to be filled.

Is that the most basic motive in life?

Something’s missing. I’m hungry.

I’m thirsty. I need. I need. I need.

So we fill ourselves, with food, drink, others,

fun, answers, stuff that stuffs us.

We try to control what we can’t control - so 
in anger or frustration - we snap - we hurt.

So we spend our days sending out

555 texts and 333 tweets – our attempts

to fill up our emptiness and loneliness –

because we’ve discovered we can't do it all.

We can’t be it all. The more is elsewhere.
The control is elsewhere. We scream.

Then comes the double whammy:

we find out that all this reaching out 
for more drains and strains us. We discover
that when our net is full – we’re dragging -
we break - we lose what we thought we had.

We find out there is the morning after,

the hangover, the headache, the heartache,

and then the triple whammy, we have

the deeper itch - angst and agita –

because of our dumb moves . 

Then, if we are lucky, we’ll confess what Augustine confessed in his Confessions: “Too late I loved you, 

O Beauty ever ancient, ever new! Too late 
I loved you! And, behold, you were within me,

and I out of myself, and there I searched for you.” 

Good News! We have finally learned what the Psalmist whispered, “Be still and know that I am God.” [Psalm 46:10] Being still, stepping back can
get us in touch with our motives - our desire
for God. Isn't God the real motive for life? Isn't 
God the Eternal Scream, the Eternal Whisper?

© Andy Costello, Reflections by the Bay, 2015