Before I begin, I must say that we all have a mission in this life. I believe that mission was given to us before our birth, before our arrival on this plane. Before we reincarnated, we signed a contract stipulating what we came to earth for. That mission has to do with what we are to give or share with others, but also with what we come to learn, and to receive from others. That mission, rather than being an imposed or heavy burden in our life, produces joy and happiness, because the mission of life has to do with our passions, with that thing that makes you vibrate and excites you, that produces a great personal satisfaction.
Our mission in this life also has to do with our personal history, with what we have lived, with what we have learned, with those marks left by sadness, illness, happiness, love, what we do.
One of the things I remember most in life is my childhood with my grandmother. My grandmother was an indigenous Cumanagoto, illiterate, who although she could not read or write, told me many stories. That oral way of transmitting stories was my first approach to fiction and the magic behind creating or inventing worlds.
At the age of 7, while I was learning to write and add, I was also teaching my grandmother how to write and add, because I wanted her to learn like me. I remember coming home and after eating lunch and doing my homework, explaining to my grandmother how the letters and numbers were made. Every story I learned in school, I would pass it on with patience, but most of all with a lot of emotion to my grandmother. It was my way of giving her back so many stories, but also of teaching her new things.
The day I realized that my grandmother was ashamed of her illiteracy, I began to leave her room so she could do her homework alone, and through a slot in the door, I watched my grandmother lean over the notebook and “scribble” strokes, over and over again, as I had instructed her, until they were perfect. Now, still, when I recall that moment, I get excited all over again.
Then, over the years, I have discovered that it was not by chance that on the day I was going to enter college, for an “economically” appetizing career, I decided, at the last minute, for education and even though my father was frowning at my selection, my heart was beating as hard as if I had met, at last, the love of my life.
Nor is it a coincidence that I was the first person in my family to graduate and that after that “family” achievement, having a university degree is more desirable than having a marriage.
At the end I have told you all this to talk about my life mission. According to numerology, my mission is the number 7, according to some religions, I am an extraterrestrial that went to another planet and fell here, but according to me, my life mission has to do with the joy of teaching and learning, and the change that knowledge brings. It makes me very happy to open the doors of knowledge to my students, to see that my words make sparks and then those sparks make fires, seeds sown that will later become trees. Likewise, I like to learn, to know the how, the why, of things. I like to be nourished by people. I find no more enriching way to live than listening to people who know.
Over the years I have learned to understand that everything that brings you closer to what you really are, brings you closer to happiness. My happiness is to light “little fires” of curiosity and knowledge. I do not assure that those little fires will remain, but I do know that once you know the light that knowledge gives, it is difficult to return to the darkness. In one sentence: I have the ability to give people wings.
The images are from my personal gallery and the text was translated with Deepl
![](https://images.hive.blog/768x0/https://images.ecency.com/DQmbz6FJqg7vnfi91T1a2EV85R39LdrtufKsyojoXyWy6Ct/image.png)
This is my participation this week for our great friend @ericvancewalton's initiative: Memoir monday. If you want to participate, here's the link to the invitation post
Thank you for reading and commenting. Until a future reading, friends
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