Finding Your Purpose In Life, A Field Manual

“If a man knows not to which port he sails, no wind is favourable.” – Seneca the Younger

Finding your purpose is all the rage right now, spread across the social media landscape like jam on bread. Trying to figure out what we should do with our lives is the pain of the modern world. It is difficult to get our heads around the fact that life has never been this good for our species. Whilst that is a privilege, I’d be remiss not to talk about the difficulties that arise in therapy, arguably from an abundance of convenience, freedom, and choice.

I too, especially in my youth and early twenties, have grappled with a lack of purpose. That said, I am optimistic when it comes up in my private practice because it means that clients are exploring themselves more deeply, reflecting on whether keeping up with the joneses is possible, necessary, or just downright stupid. When we start to think about what excites us and who we are, we are beginning to open a door we didn’t know existed.

I love working as a therapist because I am deeply passionate about the discussion of ideas. Over the years, I have developed an adoration for three main areas of interest: existential concerns, grief, and relationships. The common theme, however—the theme that continues to get me out of bed in the morning and pursue this work—is meaning; and the search for meaning is the perennial quest of the individual (or, for the new-agers, spiritual seeker). I hope that what I’ve learnt in my own life as well as working as a therapist will provide you with the tools to help you find what you’re looking for.

Why’s it So Hard to Find Your Purpose!?

Life, for most of us, is like Netflix. With so much choice, how do we make value judgements? It is nearly impossible to decide which TV show or movie to watch unless we come to the party prepared. As a result, we spend more time scrolling, trying to decide, than we do watching—doing the thing we set out to do in the first place!

I remember working with a client who would vehemently declare that he’d made the right decision and yet the following week, belligerently state the opposite. Put simply, he was like a yo-yo, going back and forwards, oscillating between two poles that wouldn’t ever see eye-to-eye, wouldn’t ever meet in the middle (so that he might escape the pain of having to decide at all!). He was a delightful man of sixty-four, yet his difficulty was in feeling like he’d let people down. Though we’d discuss the inevitability of letting people down — lest we let ourselves down—the discomfort proved too great for him to bear. He still worked, feigning his enjoyment, only to vent his resentment for his fellow employees in our appointments. His wish was to do “absolutely nothing pal” upon retirement. He couldn’t stand his employer, but it was so difficult for him to pack up his things and quit (even though his superannuation fund was more than sufficient) because he didn’t want to let his boss down. After some time, I decided to strip things back and get to the root cause. It turned out he was not only highly sensitive to the pains of others; he was raised by a father (who had long-since departed this world) who made every decision for him. Though he believed he was trying to help his son, he was now left to his own devices without any competency or skills to navigate the adult world—the world he’d lived in for forty-six years.

We started from the beginning. I asked him who, in his home, normally decided what to eat for dinner. Unsurprisingly, he said his wife did. I said, “Great! This Friday night I want you to decide.” I could feel his anxiety begin to boil, like I was suddenly counselling a racing horse locked in a starting gate—the energy in the room changed instantaneously!

I quickly lowered the bar. “Okay, how about this: On Friday nights, what food do you normally eat?”

“Pizza or Fish and Chips, usually”, he said.

“Great!” We’d made inroads. “How about, if you both decide you’d like either pizza or fish and chips this Friday, you can then decide which of the two you’ll eat?” He looked at me challengingly before his face softened. He agreed.

My client really struggled with the skill of making decisions because he’d never been taught. Then he had the audacity to shame himself for it! I asked him if he’d ever thought he was stupid or worthless because he didn’t know how to spearfish. Obviously, he said no. I explained that, to me, his inability to make decisions was very much like his inability to spearfish, only he made himself feel worthless as a result!

So, a quick recap. Making decisions is hard, especially if you’ve had an upbringing that didn’t allow you to stumble, fall, then get up having learnt more about yourself from making the wrong decisions. Making decisions is even harder now because our consumerist economy loves paralysing all of us into submission! Making decisions is vital for finding purpose in life because the phrase itself is analogous to choosing to walk down one path at the cost of others (I hope you’re starting to feel less ashamed for not knowing what your purpose is!).

Personal Trials and Pitfalls

Throughout my twenties, I grappled with the concept of purpose. I read every book, watched every YouTube lecture, and demanded that my own therapists tell me the answer that would solve the problem once and for all. I needed to be shown the way to liberation and fulfilment! I was interested in so many things but couldn’t decide which one to pursue. This made me nervous. Life is a finite game. Our time is scarce. What would I choose to do? I loved to play the guitar, but I also enjoyed football, CrossFit, reading and writing, singing—and I haven’t even mentioned work! Would I be a CrossFit coach, guitar teacher, Counsellor, Psychologist, Counselling Psychologist—what’s the difference? I was still in my twenties; did this mean I needed to travel more? So many choices, so little time—or so I thought. Even after years of study, which culminated in the self-publication of three books, I wasn’t any closer to discovering my purpose.

Whilst writing this blog, I came across an old diary entry from late 2020 that accurately reflects my sentiments at the time:

20^th October 2020,

Having since ‘found my purpose’ I realise I’ve lost it again; and this endless quest to find myself has only brought me closer to the brink of eternal insanity. Having now finished the writing of my third book, I, again am suffering. I am suffering because the road has ended. Running along that road, I could not wait for it to end; I could not wait to reach the destination—to find out what was waiting for me on the other side of hard work and pain. Would it be a reward, an accolade? Would it be well-deserved satiation? Please let it last a lifetime! Well, now I have arrived, and I am still in pain. Why? Because I am always seeking validation outside myself. I see no difference between the ‘doing’ associated with the writing as a mere attempt to hide from the inescapable fact that I, like all other pleasure-seeking chimps, exist in a timeless void known only as the present moment. My inability to allow myself to exist there perpetuates the need to ‘find myself’.

After having finished my third book, I, once again, felt lost. This time, however, I was closer to the truth because I was beginning to recognise that I felt most alive only when pursuing a goal, moreover, achieving it. Writing my books was far more exhilarating than holding the finished copies in my hands. Climbing a mountain is more enlivening than reaching the summit even though it is the idea of the view from the top that motivates one to continue to put one foot in front of the other.

In the end, I realised that a “purpose” isn’t necessarily a thing, moreover a feeling. It’s more about living intentionally. You walk along the rainbow to find the pot of gold, but to find the pot of gold, you must fall in love with the walking. Life requires that active participation element for each of us to really feel like we are here for a reason—or at least, for life to feel worthwhile.

When we look up at the stars and curse them for our existential discomfort, what we are forgetting is that life is a game. We are the players. Whilst it is important to stop, pause and reflect, doing so too much or for too long will lead to rumination. Playing the game of life and stopping to take stock and think about ourselves as the players we want to be is a balancing act, one that takes a lifetime to cultivate and perfect.

What I came to realise is that I wouldn’t ever “find” my purpose like I might find my glasses after having misplaced them. That there would be some ultimate realisation to put an end to the spiralling thoughts and incessant psychological torment was a fallacy and an attachment—a need—that took me years to let go of. In the end, I realised that I’d have to learn to live with a bit of uncertainty for life to be fulfilling and for me to feel like I was living purposefully. Truth lies in the paradox.

The Paradox

No matter how much I chased pleasure, I inevitably found myself in pain. This was especially true when it came to finding my purpose. As soon as I felt like I was onto something, my purpose became ever more elusive.

Life is hard when we bounce back and forth between two poles. Common poles include left and ring-wing politics; society and the individual; nature and nurture; yin and yang; and my favourite: good and evil. We attribute our ideas of morality to these opposing poles which are, in and of themselves, neither good nor bad. In my clinical practice, I’ve often heard people refer to themselves as “all-or-nothing” personality types.

“I go from 1 to 10, mate. I’m black or white.”

“I just can’t slow down until I’m sick.”

“I’m either really happy or desperately sad.”

Finding a more balanced perspective cures not only the mind but society at large.

When it comes to finding your purpose, it is necessary to find the balance between trying new things to discovery new interests, and sticking to one thing at a time. In other words, balancing spontaneity with impulse control is the secret sauce. Pay attention to what you’re interested in and who you’re inspired by, whilst also remaining centred and grounded in your current pursuits.

I’ll never forget when an ambitious man of twenty-seven came to see me, seeking guidance for his paralysing anxiety. He was an unbelievably determined civil engineer with hopes to work up the corporate hierarchy and manage those far beyond his years, thereby taking after his father who was also passionate about public infrastructure. Very quickly, I realised he was far too attached to the expectations he placed upon himself to work at removing or softening them. He wanted to be the best. To me, ambition guided and pulled him forwards, albeit into anxious territory; but his ambition was who he was. It was an integral part of his identity. I made sure to work with it, not against it. There would be no need to drastically edit the narrative of his life, thereby causing existential instability. After a few appointments, we both came to agree that, whilst his expectations did increase his anxieties dramatically, he’d be better off owning and accepting them as opposed to denying himself of the goal that sustained his identity (to be the best bloody civil engineer the world’s ever seen, basically). 

He decided to lean in further, running towards his anxiety like it was a dragon to slay! Accordingly, we spoke about the sacrifices hyper successful people make. I began referring to him as the “Tiger” of engineering given much of our discussions centred around the sacrifices Tiger Woods had to make to be the best golfer ever—including, poignantly, his inability to maintain successful relationships. (I heard podcaster Chris Williamson talk about Tiger Woods as a representation of the fact that, in life, we don’t get to “have it all”. I have relayed it to many clients in the past.) We danced with his anxiety; we made fun of it like it was a weird (but cute) birthmark. In so doing, he was able to accept it like one might accept a part of themselves.

This eased the man’s pain. He felt better knowing that he was choosing to be anxious given how much civil engineering meant to him. Anxiety was no longer happening to him, but for him. This was what it took. And what I learnt from my time with the determined civil engineer is that it isn’t necessarily desire itself that engenders suffering, moreover the belief that we don’t get to choose what we desire—that somehow, we must struggle for what we want as opposed to enjoy living each day in pursuit of our goals.

An Identity Usurped by Another

I was CrossFit obsessed in my twenties. Up until mid 2017, I was dedicated to training two times a day, on a mission to compete at the CrossFit games. In late 2016, a friend recommended I listen to an episode of the Joe Rogan Experience with a man named Dr. Jordan Peterson. I had a lengthy drive ahead of me and decided to tune in. Halfway into the show, I felt something within me boil and bubble to the surface. Like lava erupting from a dormant volcano, awe-inspiring and wonderfully exciting, yet terrifying visions of a life that could be burst from the confines of my mind. Up until that point, I’d frequently escape reality, seeking my imaginative daydreams during waking hours, forced to partake in laborious tasks in exchange for money. Seldom had I been this activated and inspired by a conversation, one that propelled me to reconsider my career prospects. The way Dr. Peterson wove esoteric, religious, and philosophical themes together to explain and account for the existential trials of modern life blew me away. I couldn’t get enough of it. I had to learn more. From that point on, I knew that a career in psychology was what I was meant to do. Whatever came over me would not permit the pursuit of any other interest. I had no choice. Resistance was futile. The cat was out of the bag. I haven’t looked back since.

Upon reflection, I realise that it wasn’t me actively seeking out my purpose that led me to finding it, nor is there a fundamental purpose at all. Life is a series of purposes, like a series of concentric circles. Prior to psychology, my purpose was to compete as a CrossFit athlete, and before then, it was about being an AFL player. Now it’s therapy and writing (although I must admit I’ve been writing ever since I can remember). Who knows whether my purpose will change or not. It doesn’t matter. What matters is listening and feeling into the gentle nudges of the soul. Try not to figure out what you should be doing with your life. Instead, focus on what you feel would bring you joy right now. Bring it back to the next enlivening task in front of you. Only by letting go of the need to find your purpose will you discover it.

More Tips to Helping You Find Your Purpose

The most common mistake when trying to find your purpose is to chase money. The English comedian Jimmy Carr said that, “Money is a magic lamp. It’s only valuable if you know what you what. So then, how much is enough? Because enough depends on how much you need to get what you want.” Without desire, life is meaningless, no matter how many wishes afforded or zeros in your bank account. This may sound counterintuitive, especially to Buddhist readers. That “life is suffering, and suffering arises from desire” is true; but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t suffer. It means we should choose our suffering carefully.

Most people chase money thinking that that is what they want. Then, when they are left unfulfilled, they buy all different sorts of things in a desperate attempt to make themselves happy. If they could just get quiet enough to listen to the universe, they would see what they are truly searching for. Then they would know what desires are worthy of their suffering.

Whatever you need in life will control you because you’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Needing to find your purpose will ensure you remain lost because a purpose is something that ensues; it isn’t something to be discovered. As writer and entrepreneur Aubrey Marcus says, “To the degree you want something is the degree you’re afraid of not having it.” See if you can feel into what the fear that keeps you obsessed with finding your purpose really wants.

For me, like with most of my fears, it usually comes back to the perennial discomfort of uncertainty. It was difficult for me to reside in the “not knowing”—so I didn’t. I did whatever I could to distract myself from what my true purpose was at the time: to try different things. Now I’m proportionally more comfortable with uncertainty. Coincidentally, my life feels proportionally more purposeful!

Moving Forward

You find yourself by looking forwards. To that end, let’s cast our gaze towards the future. Something I get my clients to do is write about their perfect day, from the moment they wake up to the moment they fall asleep. I ask them to envision a better life six months from now. Ten years is far too long, and a few weeks or months isn’t long enough. I like six months because it affords them the opportunity to imagine what six months of sustained, dedicated effort might do for their health, relationships, finances and/or business prospects.

What are some goals that ignite a fire within your belly? What could you achieve in six months if you really put your nose to the grindstone? What lifestyle would get you jumping out of bed in the morning? Write down a series of intrinsically meaningful goals that will challenge you just enough to progress gradually and forthrightly. When you wake up every day with a mission and a means to achieve it, you have won. Then nothing else matters because you know what you need to do and can audit your life effectively. Don’t get lost in the world. Narrow your gaze and make the world work for you!

Despite the confusion, finding your purpose doesn’t have to be such a complicated, nuanced topic. As Dr. Jordan Peterson says, “Aim continually at Heaven while you work diligently on Earth. Attend fully to the future, in that manner, while attending fully to the present. Then you have the best chance of perfecting both.” And what I’ve ultimately come to realise—and I came across this idea when I read the Bhagavad Gita, an ancient Hindu text—is that the fruit of our labour must be discovered within the labour itself. This is dharma, our souls work. To me, that’s what it’s all about. It’s about doing things for the sake of themselves. Work to work, not to get something from it. Then it’ll truly feel like a purpose. This is what it means to embrace life for what it is.