Where To Find Your Purpose

Where does one's purpose come from? How do we find it?

A friend recently asked me this and it led to a fascinating conversation.

As I thought back on my own 20-year exploration of this question, I noticed that the way I think about purpose has changed dramatically.

In my 20s and early 30s, my ideas about purpose were much more rigid.

I believed each of us had one clearly defined life purpose and it was our responsibility to uncover it as quickly as possible so we could get on with living it.

I linked purpose almost exclusively with work. I thought I needed to find my calling and build my career around it. I believed my purpose should be how I made money, how I expressed my identity, and how I contributed to humanity—all rolled into one tidy package.

If you're familiar with the Japanese concept of Ikigai—the overlap between what you're good at, what you enjoy, what the world needs, and what people will pay for—this may sound familiar.

The problem wasn't the framework itself.

The problem was the pressure I put on myself to get it right.

This way of thinking assumes that purpose is a destination. A fixed thing waiting to be discovered.

And until you discover it, you're behind.

You're wasting time.

You're making mistakes.

You're on the wrong path.

Looking back, that belief kept me stuck for years.

I analyzed.

I researched.

I made spreadsheets.

I took assessments.

I weighed pros and cons.

I tried to think my way into certainty.

What I rarely did was experiment.

I rarely followed my curiosity unless I could justify it with a five-year plan.

I rarely gave myself permission to do something simply because it interested me.

And because I was trying so hard to make the "right" decision, I often avoided making any decision at all.

So if purpose isn't something we discover through endless strategizing, how do we find it?

To answer that question, I need to tell you a story.

Years ago, my dad attended a talk by a visiting guru from India. During the Q&A, someone asked him: "What is the meaning of life?"

The guru looked confused.

The translator repeated the question.

Still confused.

The translator tried again.

Finally the guru paused and replied in English: "The meaning of life is to live."

I've never forgotten that.

Because it points to something that our achievement-oriented culture often overlooks: There is less to figure out than we think. And more to experience.

These days, I don't think purpose is something we find.

I think purpose is something we uncover through living.

Purpose leaves clues.

Not in strategic plans.

Not in personality assessments.

Not in overthinking.

But in moments.

The activities that make you lose track of time.

The conversations you can't stop having.

The problems you genuinely care about solving.

The books you keep finding yourself drawn toward.

The causes that make you emotional.

The skills that feel natural.

The experiences that leave you feeling more energized afterward than before.

The things you would keep doing even if nobody applauded.

Purpose whispers long before it shouts.

Most of us just haven't been taught how to listen.

For me, purpose became clearer when I stopped obsessing over purpose.

When I stopped trying to optimize my life.

When I stopped asking, "What's the perfect path?"

And started asking:

"What am I curious about?"

"What sounds fun?"

"What feels meaningful?"

"What gives me energy?"

"What do I want to experience next?"

Curiosity turned out to be a much better compass than certainty.

And here's the thing that surprised me most:

I no longer believe we have one purpose.

I've been a mentor.

A nonprofit leader.

An educator.

An instructional designer.

A facilitator.

A coach.

A daughter.

A friend.

A partner.

A volunteer.

A community builder.

Different seasons of my life have called forth different parts of me.

Each of those expressions has been purposeful.

I think we get ourselves into trouble when we assume there's one perfect role, career, or contribution we're supposed to discover and stick with forever.

Human beings change.

Our interests change.

Our capacities change.

Our priorities change.

Why wouldn't our purpose evolve, too?

What if your purpose isn't hiding from you? What if it's already trying to get your attention?

Through delight.

Through curiosity.

Through longing.

Through the things that make you feel most alive.

What if there's nothing to get right?

What if your only job is to participate fully in this strange, beautiful experience of being human?

(I'm pretty sure herons aren't sitting around worrying whether they're fulfilling their life's purpose. They just keep being gloriously heron-ish. Maybe we could learn something from that.)