THE PURPOSE PONDERENCE

When I was younger, I often considered the big philosophical questions. What is the meaning of life? Is time just a construct? What is morality? All of those things that I don’t even think about any more, but one question I pondered more than all of those was my purpose in this world.

As a runt of a kid with few discernible talents, I hung on those around me to provide my purpose for me, stumbling from day to day and never truly living the way I wanted to live. That is how I came to be a superhero for a short time. I took what others wanted me to be and that gave me a reason, and drove my purpose for a while. But I was never happy. It was tiring, and soulless and demeaning.

Then, Mysterion arrived in the world, and suddenly I was doing what I wanted to do – no, what I was born to do – and everything felt right. I could look in the mirror and see my true self for the first time instead of the husk of my former self, filled now with heart and conviction instead of doubt and trepidation.

To exist only to please others or meet their agenda is not a life worth leading. Just ask The Scarecrow. First he was created by the Mother of all evil, as a weapon to destroy humanity. He was sent like a relentless hitman after the Kersh family for generations. Finally he found a way to achieve peace in his meagre existence, only to be pulled back out of the void by Yahweh and told he has a higher purpose to save the Gods.

Mother told him he was created to destroy.

Yahweh told him he was designed to save.

But true purpose cannot be derived from what others want from you, and only when The Scarecrow understands this and breaks free from the bonds of the faux-aspiration levied on him by people higher up the food chain than he is will he truly live up to his own potential. I look at all he’s achieved already, whilst limited by targets that suit his creators, and wonder just how good could he be, if he was truly let loose and allowed to do as he wished for himself?

But alas, it looks like we will never know, for The Scarecrow seems to me to be petrified to take the low hanging fruit from the tree in his field, just like the crows his namesakes petrify. So deep-rooted is his need to fulfil the desires of others that I’m not sure he’d take a bite from the apple even if he knew what it did.

The Scarecrow has lived his entire existence as a mere puppet, and just like Mother and Yahweh have pulled his strings since the day of his inception, I too will take the marionettes wooden control bar and make him dance to my tune, living only to serve MY purpose.