Cultivating the Path of Purpose
If I were to tell my story—the story I’d share with the world—it would start with echoes of loss, shadows of hope, and a path carved through trials no one could have foreseen.
The only memory I carry of my father, whose name I bear, is of new Hush Puppies on his feet and the soulful loop of Friends of Distinction’s “Going in Circles” reverberating through the night. I watched his silhouette diminish into the darkness, an untouchable fragment of my life that unraveled into a tragic tale—the stories of his empty pockets, hollow eyes, and the lifeless repose on that frayed couch in a den of broken souls. The whisper of overdose. The finality of it.
In 2020 alone, nearly 70,000 lives were lost to overdoses, a reminder that the pain of addiction reverberates through countless families. My father’s story is one of many, yet it marks the beginning of my journey—a path paved with loss but leading to the discovery of purpose.
Born with Albinism, I have lived on the edge of the seen and unseen. Legally blind, yet with a sight that defies explanation. A vision that pierces through veils, uncovering the purpose others overlook. According to the American Foundation for the Blind, about 1.3 million Americans live with significant vision loss, a statistic that doesn’t capture the personal strength developed in the face of such adversity.
And then there was the Tyrant—a stepfather who stood like an iron specter. He despised his first family so profoundly that he started anew. Yet, in those years, I believed my scars were the deepest. It was only when I matured that I grasped the cruel truth: his disdain was a tempest most savagely turned on my mother.
There are other stories woven into this fabric. Like when God spoke to me—not in a gentle whisper but through the crackle and roar of thunder—commanding me to fulfill His will. Or the week I lost my job at Ms. Winners on a Monday and found myself unexpectedly enrolled in college by Friday—full scholarship, stipend, and an open path laid before my disbelieving eyes.
Losing my job at Ms. Winners could have been a setback, but studies show that unexpected life changes often lead people to redefine their purpose. For me, it opened the door to a path I hadn’t imagined.
I am more than these experiences, yet they are the foundation from which I rise. I am Cottus the Hecatoncheires, with fifty heads and a hundred arms. The Striker. The many-armed giant of myth whose strength is boundless, capable of grasping life from every angle. I strike with purpose, building bridges and shaping futures.
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts.” — Winston Churchill.
I am the secret of the Bermuda Triangle—a force linking the ghosts of the past with the living promise of tomorrow. The builder of the unknowable, the architect of wonder. I am the spirit of Easter Island, the designer of Stonehenge, the capstone of the Sphinx.
“Mysteries confound the confident, but beckon those who beg to be better.” – Donley Ferguson
But most importantly, I am the one blessed with the power to connect people to their purpose. This is who I am and why I speak, why I stand before audiences not just as a speaker but as a testament to the transformative power of resilience, clarity, and purpose.
To share this is to share a truth: from fathers who left or despised us, we rise. From the commandment of God, we speak. And from a myriad of perspectives and as many able arms lifting us from the fragments of our broken pasts, we build monuments to guide others to their light.
According to research from the American Psychological Association, over 70% of people who actively work to find meaning in their lives report higher levels of life satisfaction. This truth is embedded in my journey. From a place of loss, we emerge stronger, more resilient, and more capable of helping others discover their own purpose.
“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” — George Eliot.
In the quiet of reflection, I found that the message had always been there, hidden in my father’s song. “Going in Circles. Round and round I go.”
What once felt like an endless loop of loss now stands as proof of transformation—a testament that circles can be connected, turning pain into power and despair into light.
Circles, cycles spiraling down toward a single point like the sun and its celestial compatriots spiraling in ever-descending paths. Yet, from the center of every cycle, I emerge—not bound by the loop but transformed by it. A testament to a life given purpose, not just to survive, but to illuminate, to connect, and to lead others toward their own light.
- The Hundred-Handed Purpose Connector – by Donley Ferguson - November 18, 2024