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The Eye of Purpose

by Susan Snipes • February 2020


Susan Snipes, “The Eye of Purpose”, mixed media painting on canvas panel, 11” x 14”




I stood in my parents’ overgrown side yard. The sun was low and long shadows stretched up their weathered fence. Relatives and neighbors chatted with nervous excitement. A few minutes ago, we learned The Eye was headed this way and we rushed outdoors.

Being seen by The Eye was a privilege and I was about to experience it for the first time! If you stood still in front of The Eye, it could see your essence and identify your purpose. Then, The Eye would reveal your purpose on a display only you could read. No one knew when or where The Eye would appear. Everyone I knew hoped they would be seen by The Eye, but not everyone was so lucky.

We stilled as The Eye floated to the edge of our clumpy line. It looked like a large black spider with an oversized body. I peered between the couple in front of me. The black orb and legs swiveled my way. What would it see as my purpose? A writer? A painter? Maybe both? I stood on tiptoes with my gaze locked on The Eye. The orb drifted slowly to my right. The black body didn’t change. Around me I heard gasps and sighs. Oh no! It hadn’t seen me. I darted to a larger gap among the neighbors.

I froze as The Eye approached my new position. Please let it see me this time. The Eye hovered directly in front of me. A tiny oval materialized in the center of the black body. Red digital letters glowed. The message read: “A MOTHER”. The letters disappeared.

What? That’s it? Yes, I am the mother of two children. But couldn’t it tell me something more? Surely, I’m more than a mother? I hoped The Eye would validate I was doing the right thing with my art and writing. I wanted to know if I should focus my creative talents differently. My face flushed with frustration. Was The Eye right? Was being “a mother” my only purpose?


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Note: I searched for my life calling for years. This story is loosely based on one of my recent dreams. Even though I stopped searching for my life calling the question follows me. —Susan