I am a panda.

It must be nice being a panda. Animals seem to have a sense of direction, a sense of purpose. They must eat, reproduce and raise their young. And that is all they seem to do.

You don't see pandas loitering around, you don't see pandas pursuing a career in the arts. We don't have panda sports, nor do we distinguish pandas as well-off pandas and homeless pandas. There is nothing that could possibly pull them away from that sense of direction, that firm conviction that they were born knowing what to do and where to go.

The same with salmons. Born upstream a river, newborn salmons go through a long journey to return to the sea until the time comes for them to spawn, at which time they return upstream to the river.

You question how salmons know where to go, what to do. You wonder if salmons have geography classes, preparatory classes, sex-ed classes.

You wonder: how come?

How come they know where to go the moment they were born? How come they know what to do, how to reproduce? How is it that humans, as an intelligent creature, fail at establishing a purpose the moment they were born into this world?

How is it that humans were born knowing nothing? How is it that we weren't born naturally with the knowledge about the birds and the bees? How is it that we have so many purposes we humans create for ourselves instead of a purpose we were given?

Many of us believe that we were born with a purpose, given by our Creator. Many of us go through life questioning what life means. Many of us find our purpose, many others never find their purpose.

It seems like black and white.

Then there are those whose hearts are never at peace, those with shaky resolutions and doubtful eyes. Those who think they find their purpose and hesitate to pursue them. Those who question too much: "Is this really my purpose?."

Those who live with the conviction that they are always in doubt. Ironic. A conviction that they are never convinced. Is this the one? What if I find a better one? What if I'm not good at it? What if I stop liking it?

What if? What if? What if?

And their heads spin around, glancing here and there, picking up stuff and throwing them away, mentally banging their heads to a brick wall they can never break. They hear circus music in their head, seemingly mocking them with the drum rolls and the trumpets and the singers singing happily the same thing over and over again.

And you seem to hear them screaming silently: Tell me what to do, for I am lost.

I like animals, I wish I was more like one; so deeply rooted in their sense of purpose that they'd never be distracted by the unnecessary. I like people with a sense of direction, which I completely lack.

I completely lack the ability to make a decision. I am too scared. Too convinced that I will never be convinced. Perhaps like a salmon washed ashore, entranced by the light of the sun falling through the water. Like a panda who refuses to eat bamboo because it wants to be different.

An anomaly? Perhaps not. A lost child. Too obsessed by the little things in life.

Yeah, it must be nice being a panda.