What If... You Are Already "In Service"

Subtitle: Drafted at Birth Babe. Now Live Like You Mean It.

I am in the process of—perhaps for the first time (scary, I know; I’m old, for god’s sake)—actually, authentically, with integrity and all that shit, cobbling together some serious, life-altering intentions. And yeah, I guess it’s natural that the GO TO belief systems, the ones I know best—Capitalism, Catholicism, and AA—show up to the party, holding court like old friends who don’t know when to leave. And like clockwork, here comes the chatter: What about service? What about selflessness? What about being a good girl, a good human, a good whatever? Oh boy.

It’s like my overthinking, people-pleasing, recovering-codependent brain just can’t help itself: How can I be of service? How can I help? What should I be doing for others? Oops. Did I say recovering codependent? Cute.

Today, in meditation, something snuck in. A little what if. What if… you’re already in service? Now, when these downloads come in, they usually don’t arrive as tidy sentences. They show up bundled—words, concepts, sometimes an entire worldview plopped onto the coffee table of my brain. And this one was a doozy.

Let me try to explain the brilliance of this particular observation. What if I chose—willingly, joyfully, maybe even a little mischievously—to leave heaven and come here? To volunteer myself, my soul, my innocent heart to the missiles and miracles, the beauty and the beasts of Planet Earth? To get dropped smack-dab in the middle of the mayhem and just be here as part of the universal experience?

What if just showing up here—getting born into this messy, magnificent experiment—counts as service? Cosmic service. Universal service. We’re talking heaven’s own draft pick, baby! One optional explanation, according to Michael Singer (and a few other theologians and mystics, etc.), the universe is experiencing itself through me. Through you. Through the cranky guy at Trader Joe’s blocking the frozen food aisle. We’re all the holes in the flute, remember? The instrument through which life sings.

So, if I’ve already enlisted (or been drafted) and reported for duty just by arriving here, what does that mean for my intentions? What would my intentions look like if “service” is already a done deal? If “selflessness” is baked into the cake, marked complete on the divine to-do list, and no longer mine to agonize over? What if I’m not here to earn my way, but to experience it? To soak up the full mystery of being a soul in sneakers, dodging pain where I can, and savoring the rest?

This flips everything. If service is handled, then what? What’s left for me to want, create, imagine, or intend—not out of duty, but out of joy? Not because it checks a box, but because it lights me up? It’s just a thought. A little rebellious, a little delicious. It gives me a new lens, a wilder, freer, more playful angle to approach this intentional journey. Instead of “what should I be doing to prove myself?” it’s “what am I drawn to explore, create, enjoy, or discover just because I can?”

And honestly? That’s it. Nothing heavy or overwrought today (wink wink). Just a cosmic nudge, a little “what if” to slip into your pocket for when the self-improvement gremlins start gnawing. And here’s the kicker, the mic drop ego trapdoor: maybe this whole realization is my ego getting me off the biggest hook ever. Maybe it’s the ultimate hack, the cosmic loophole, the spiritual cheat code to skip the guilt and waltz straight to the heavenly map room, where X marks already here. 

Either way, it’s delicious. It’s liberating. It’s just a whole new, out-of-this-world perspective shift, and baby, I am RUNNING WITH IT — compass swinging on my hip, map flapping in the breeze, laughing my way down the trail, singing “recalculating!” at every wrong turn and loving the view anyway.

Possible... Field Guide Rule #81: You’re already in service — drafted at birth, babe. Now quit over-pleasing and go live like you mean it.

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