October 5, 2025
What does it mean to live a life of purpose? For those who are fortunate enough to be confronted with this question, the answer could differ greatly from person to person. It feels like we were supposed to address it while sitting down with our high school guidance counselor to figure out just what in the hell we wanted to do with our life. Maybe we thought about which subjects we felt more comfortable in, or perhaps we looked at the top party schools, or athletic programs or maybe even just went with our gut.
The unease often seems to hit a lot of us much later, during middle age, where things have marinated and so many people feel just as confused as they did when they were 17, except more depleted. Gazing back upon our youth as energy wasted, we may often lament that our finest years are behind us or that we should have accomplished more by this point in our life; or at least gained some sort of understanding as to that question which nagged us, less urgently, back in high school: “what am I doing?”.
It’s possible and even likely that, for a substantial number of us, the system we ascended through did very little to provide us with the ability to produce a cogent retort to this vocational, turned existential, query. And it’s certainly well within reason to admit that we may have made a few bad decisions which led us down a future path of doubt and unfulfillment. When we’re looking at our bigger “purpose”, our past is quite irrelevant; yet, the older we get, the harder this is to accept.
Anyone who has updated their professional resumé would recognize this statement as an oversimplification, at best, and a flat out fallacy, at worst; that is, if our career is the measuring stick of personal fulfillment. Even those who work a job as a means to support their true, non-work related passion, still comprehend the significance of our past and how it continually shapes us into old age. Sure, we want to learn from our mistakes; but when we become perpetually discontent, we’re not learning from them, we are dwelling within them.
The Libran Paradox
About half of Americans polled have expressed that they are satisfied with their jobs, with about a quarter of them stating that they “love” their job. To that I would have to ask: “would you be willing to do your job, in some capacity, if they didn’t pay you? If money was no object, would you still show up every day (or even every other day)?”. This would result in a resounding “no” for nearly all of us, for people will go as far as stating that they “love” work that is tolerable, as long as the paycheck is high enough to allow us the security of comfort and the freedom of consumption.
I’m not knocking anyone who works hard, earns money and then spends it however they see fit; that seems like a fair formula and one that could render just about any person moderately satisfied with the position they maintain, in work and in life (that is if we don’t account for wealth disparity). Many people have discovered the lunacy within the old-fashioned mentality that “work shouldn’t be fun, that’s why it’s called ‘work’”. Well, if we’re doing it for 60% of our waking life, then statistically, life should not be fun either.
Offices and companies are aware of this discovery, which is why they collectively devote energy and resources that are designed to keep employees clocking in…and moderately satisfied. Yet, I have friends who have admitted that traveling for work occupies roughly 20 days out of every month; or while driving their kid to school, they hush the child in the back seat so they can focus on heading off a few emails before rushing into the office (To which I ask them if they finally got one of those self-driving vehicles).
Work/life balance does not exist because: a) that percentage of our time is captured by a place where, statistically speaking, the majority of us would rather not be and cannot be made up elsewhere; and b) we simply cannot love working in the same way that we love spending time with our spouse or our family or just doing things that we choose to do with what little free time we’ve been afforded. With desire askew, the paradox lies within this idea that nobody is paying us to do us or to play with our little kids; if we truly love them (and want to support them), then we have to let go and play ball with the big boys.
Capitalism requires our participation in this manner and the rich aren’t getting richer off of part-timers, family lovers and people who march to the beat of their own drum. As a country, we offer zero paid family leave because it adds no value to its bottom line. And when we play the game, our value systems become just as malleable and distorted as the ones who created the rules. Work should exist as a part of our lives, not resting on the opposite side of the scale. For most, we’re either looking up or down at the other side: there is no balance there, it’s a work/life trap.
Field of Dreams
In order to avoid this trap, it seems that our options here are limited to either finding a way to monetize our passions or become true Buddhists, only accepting that which we truly need (food, water and clothing). Perhaps the answer lies somewhere in between, but that is a vast expanse where most of us already do our working and our living. The purpose of what we are doing, however, is like a needle in a thousand haystacks.
The first thing that comes to mind when searching for a solution within this analogy is to minimize the number of haystacks. This may include contacts or obligations to a friend circle that no longer serves our social needs; it may involve relinquishing some comforts, expenditures, toxic habits or addictions that are gumming up the works and making it difficult to focus on anything that adds actual value to our lives. Hell, it may even require us to clean out the garage…then the basement…then, well you get the picture.
Clearing the clutter, regardless of how vexing or daft it may sound, can unfold beautifully when executed with the right intentions and mindful methodological approach. A clean garage or a clear social calendar, for instance, can certainly help us become less frantic and more organized. It may even put us closer to locating that needle, but we always seem to find ourselves stumbling into more and more haystacks. A field full of them cannot function as anything other than a proverbial holding tank of distractions, decoys and empty promises.
An open field on the other hand, has endless potential; we might even forget about that damned little needle altogether, only to set our sights on something much bigger, more interesting and more useful to us. The space allows for perspective: a chance to see things more clearly, a place where we can identify and appreciate positive relationships and walk away from destructive ones– this fosters purpose.
Spouses, employers, friends, family, material possessions; these things and these people are in our lives because we ultimately make that choice. As we get older, we actually have a lot more agency over this domain than we had as teenagers. At that age, we’re so used to glancing over our shoulder for approval or condemnation. And I wonder how many of us still do.
I also wonder, if I were to travel back in time and tell my younger self, “just listen to your heart and nothing else”, would he hear me? Or would the barrage of voices, pressures, opinions, judgement and shallow influence still prevail? It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past. Today I think I’d like to go find a field and just be. That’s where I would want younger me to end up anyway.