Does Purpose Choose You?

Understanding the Existential Dilemma: “What is My Purpose?”

Photo by Louis Blythe

Why am I here? Does it really matter? These are two questions that humans have asked since, most likely, the beginning of our existence as a species, at the point where we were conscious of our inevitable demise and wrestled with it, a combination of curiosity, insight, and suppression.

It is the ongoing tension between nihilism and its opposite, existentialism, the dissonance between creating meaning in our lives and, at times, questioning if there is any meaning at all.

It is a question that I asked on a much deeper level when I turned 40 years old, and after a decade of abusing alcohol to the point that my life had become unmanageable. I had made a commitment, conceivably out of sheer necessity, to get sober.

I had been at a retreat for alcoholics and had listened to one of the most interesting stories that I have ever heard told by a woman who had volunteered to speak that day to a gathering of men. We listened intently in an effort to be cured from the obsession of drinking, which was obvious to us all, had only one purpose: to destroy us and leave a wake of suffering and disappointment for those who depended on us.

She had been to a place some would call Hell, but had miraculously returned and had an awe-inspiring story to tell us. Her story seemed to follow the hero’s journey, as defined by Joseph Campbell in his book of the same title, which the famous Hollywood producer, Stephen Spielberg, used as a template for his movie, Star Wars and which many of the greatest stories of all time are based on, including the story and life of Jesus Christ.

She was a little woman, seventy-eight years old, but looked ten years younger. She had a sparkle in her beaming blue eyes and a consistent grin that made me feel she knew something profound that I had yet to discover. Her confidence from recovery was apparent, and her “tell it like it is” candour appealed to me.

Her talk that day began with a description of her childhood: she came from a deeply religious family, then decided to become a Catholic nun and, when she was old enough, entered a convent for training. It wasn’t long after that she succumbed to her human desires and engaged in an affair with a man, which resulted in her having a child. She was shamed and expelled from the convent. She had defied her pledge to remain celibate and follow the church’s traditions, only to find herself trapped in another confined life imposed by her now husband. With little understanding of how the world works, she felt she couldn’t leave the relationship, which had become abusive with an alcoholic, controlling, and violent husband.

When the abuse endangered her newborn son, she summoned the courage to leave the relationship but found herself trapped in a cycle of fatal attraction to alcoholic, controlling, and violent men. By the time her son was in his late teens, she had also succumbed to alcoholism, which gradually eroded all of the virtues she had developed while living as a nun in the convent and replaced them with a complete disregard for her well-being and that of others.

Instead of following the righteous path, she began to pursue what many would consider an immoral existence and ended up working as a prostitute. When the hardships of being a sex worker finally broke her morally, she found herself lying on a park bench, broke, homeless, disowned by her own son, a hopeless alcoholic with no faith or hope that life was worth living.

When she saw the bottom of her last bottle, she decided to seek help and admitted herself to a hospital. When she recovered, she turned over a new leaf and, with a fresh start, made a radical comeback. She became a real estate agent in an affluent part of the city and quickly became the top sales representative at her brokerage. It wasn’t long before she was also living in a home as luxurious as the properties she had been selling.

But she slipped, perhaps because she had never truly healed from her past traumas; therefore, she began to relive them. Within a few years, she found herself back on the same park bench, broke, homeless, disowned [again] by her own son, a hopeless alcoholic with no faith or hope that life was worth living.

That reignited the demonic spirit of alcoholism, which is always said to lie dormant in the unconscious mind of those who invite it in, waiting for the perfect moment when fear reaches a tipping point. In her case, it could be the fear of lacking enough wealth, power, and status within the competitive real estate industry.

Photo by VitaliyShevchenko

On a side note: addiction, as I would define it, could simply be that—a situation where a normal human desire takes on a demanding presence within one’s soul and constantly craves and calls for more, more, and much more. More than is rationally necessary. It could pertain to more drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, gambling, shopping, sex, or even food. All are normal human desires for behaviours and substances that can provide relief, through temporary pleasure, from the existential fear of living.

However, for these individuals, the desire has transformed into a need that feels urgent or even life-dependent, and, if left unchecked, can lead to a life that is indeed unmanageable. Is addiction brain-mediated? Yes, partly, but it is also what has been called a “spiritual sickness”. In that, these people have diverted much of their attention to what offers them temporary relief from fear in all its forms, albeit at a high cost. Essentially, their main purpose in life has become to chase what eases their pain.

Back to the story, it was after her relapse into alcoholism that she found a support group that had brought a new sobriety or awakening within her. With the help of others who had suffered the same, she found a new, unshakable strength within her, and for the last two decades, she has been teaching others where to find theirs.

After she finished speaking, many people gathered around her to ask questions, mostly about recovery.

My chance finally arrived, so I stepped forward and asked my question, “How do I find MY purpose in life?”

She chuckled with a sparkle in her eye and replied, “Honey, you only need to find one thing in life.”

I then asked her, “What is that?”

She replied, “God.”

I looked at her, bewildered, and then sheepishly asked, “How do I find God?”

She reached out and touched my heart, then replied, “You need to look in here.”

What she told me that day, calmly, clearly, and definitively, I will never forget for the rest of my life. It was her best answer for those pursuing their purpose, assigning meaning to the phenomena we experience and wish to experience, enabling us to endure the incredible suffering inherent to human life, all the while witnessing it in nature itself.

In philosophical terms, it is defined as Teleology, “the explanation of phenomena in terms of the purpose they serve rather than of the cause by which they arise.” The etymology of Teleology comes from two Greek words: telos, meaning ‘end, purpose or goal’, and logos, meaning ‘explanation or reason’. From this, we get teleology: an explanation of something in terms of its end, purpose, or goal.

The ancient philosophers, like Plato, saw purpose in the universe: the Demiurge, a divine craftsman who creates order out of chaos, an inherently good and harmonious realm. Aristotle believed that nature operates teleologically: things develop toward their natural ends, not by chance or purely mechanical processes.

Recent research in biology might one day support this ancient wisdom, particularly work by Michael Levin from Tufts University and his team’s research on how bioelectricity controls morphogenesis, the process by which organisms develop their specific shapes. He proposes a non-mechanistic, sometimes "Platonic" view, in which biological forms are not solely derived from genetic blueprints but rather from, or within, a larger, non-physical information space. This indeed sounds very teleological.

The study of purpose continued after Plato and Aristotle when Medieval theologian and philosopher Thomas Aquinas incorporated Aristotelian final causes into theology: “God as the ultimate final cause of the universe, giving all things purpose directed toward Him.”

19th- and 20th-century existential philosophers, such as Nietzsche, rejected external or cosmic purpose, declaring ‘God is dead’ and urging individuals to create their own values and meaning (the Übermensch ideal).

Kierkegaard, regarded as the father of existentialism, along with philosophers Sartre and Camus, “emphasized that life has no pre-given purpose—existence precedes essence. Humans face absurdity but must create authentic meaning through choice, rebellion, or faith.”

When comparing purpose and meaning, they are closely connected, with purpose asking: “what am I here to do,” and meaning questioning: "why is it so important." Because we are limited by space and time, and have a finite lifespan, our attention tends to be hierarchical: we can’t focus on everything; only some things are considered valuable enough to merit our sacrifice.

One of my favourite modern-day philosophers, Bernardo Kastrup, in his book, The Daimon and the Soul of the West: Finding identity, meaning, and purpose in a sacrificial life, describes “Daimonic forces that give us direction and the sacrificial nature of our existence. No longer do we realize that our lives aren't, have never been, and will never be about ourselves.”

What I found very intriguing about his book is defining purpose as following your relentless Daimon, the voice that leads you to your purpose, but not fully surrendering to it. Instead, it suggests restraining it with a touch of practicality; otherwise, you risk being consumed by it, since it is willing to sacrifice you to fulfill its purpose. He presents a dualistic view, with the source of purpose shaped by what seems to lie outside us —the will of our Daimon —and by our own self-preservation and validation—our identity or Ego fulfilling its purpose. The goal: finding harmony between what appears to be two entities within one person.

The famous Dutch painter Vincent Van Gogh may have been viewed as mentally ill, especially during the last days of his life, when he created over 80 paintings and drawings in about two months, some considered masterpieces. Alternatively, he might have been driven by a purpose—a will of his Daimon—that could also be said to have consumed him. When it had finished with him and was satisfied with his sacrifice, it drove him to shoot himself in the abdomen with a revolver, from which he later died.

Photo by Redd Francisco

Author Michael Singer offers a different perspective on discovering your purpose in his book The Surrender Experience, in which he suggests you let life unfold naturally—without resistance. He shares his remarkable journey from solitude in the woods to becoming the CEO of a billion-dollar medical software company and, later, a renowned spiritual teacher and author. It’s a remarkable true story and teaches one of his main axioms: stay open—never close.

When a friend of mine, in his midlife, asked me about his path and how to find it, I didn’t give him the exact answer the Nun had given me. Instead, I responded in a similarly abstract manner, saying, “You need to follow the energy.” This way of ‘experiencing’ your way toward purpose can be a valid strategy since only through experience can you discover what energizes you. However, it also challenges the conventional modern belief that purpose is something we need to manifest, rather than something that finds us as long as we are open to experience. The wisdom is to recognize when it has found you and when you have found it, then commit to it fully; otherwise, you will stay in a constant race, chasing your ‘destiny’ and often running in circles. This approach is also freeing, as you only need to be a keen observer, capable of assessing your situation and turning it to your advantage without taking on the extra burden of chasing after your destiny.

I remember attending a personal development seminar where a very theatrical speaker dramatized this point brilliantly. He started walking through the audience of a couple of hundred people, stopping suddenly to make a statement like, “I think I like this girl over here. I think I’m going to marry her.” He then abruptly sprinted across the room and shouted, “Wait, hold on a second, I’m not happy anymore. I need to find my true soulmate, and then I will be happy.” Again, he suddenly ran across the room, pointing at something imaginary, and stopped, exclaiming, “I made the same mistake twice, but this time I’m sure that this love is genuine!” For the last time, he ran again, this time out of breath; he reached the other side of the room and exclaimed, “Wait a minute, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with a woman. I believe I’ve always been in love with men. I’ve always been in the wrong relationship!” he cynically yelled.

Dramatic imposition, but he was clearly trying to make a point about people who always think the ‘grass is greener on the other side’. They're always trying to find and express their authentic selves, never able to commit long-term to anything, never able to justify delaying the reward—if there even is one—other than internal peace. They make it all about themselves, which nature always rejects, unsurprisingly.

What if your life’s purpose was simply to be of benefit to others after you're gone? Well-known figures from history, such as writers Edgar Allan Poe and Emily Dickinson, scientists like Galileo Galilei, and now, the father of genetics, the Austrian monk Gregor Mendel, didn’t receive recognition for their achievements during their lifetimes, in fact, some of them were mocked and ridiculed by their peers, only to be recognized as geneses after they were long gone.

Planning to avoid having your purpose bring you wealth and status is an unusual strategy, but it addresses the issue of mistaking your purpose for building up your Identity, which removes you from the picture entirely, as you will never see validation in your work. This also presents a problem, as feedback, whether in the form of validation or its absence, can serve as a valuable guide for refining our purpose.

In his book The Alchemist, Brazilian author Paulo Coelho tells the story of a young boy named Santiago who dreams of hidden treasure and discovers his purpose in seeking it. Spoiler alert: he finds the treasure where he first dreamt about it, meaning "the treasure was with you all along,” so his arduous journey could be seen as unnecessary. I interpret this to mean that, often, our purpose is right in front of us if only we can see it. Alternatively, many believe that Santiago's journey was necessary, since personal transformation occurs through the adventure of life, with all of its unknowns, implying that experience can be meaningful and therefore purposeful in itself, notwithstanding our expectations of such experiences.

Many popular motivational speakers portray finding your true, authentic self and purpose as a joyful, fulfilling journey, becoming who you were truly meant to be. Perhaps it’s the skeptic in me, but I am unsure about people who seem so sure about themselves. I tend to think most of us are just as confused as the person next to us, trying our best to comprehend a chaotic, ever-changing world.

Hence, I tend to pay more attention to those speakers who present a healthy dose of humility, preparing their followers to expect struggle and some suffering as they walk purposefully along their destined path. I had more respect for Shawn T’s “Insanity Workout,” a 60-minute, six-day-per-week, all-out effort workout, than Suzanne Somers’ “Thigh Master,” which required 10 repetitions a few times a day. Since sacrifice and the suffering we sometimes perceive seem to be embedded in the search for meaning, purpose, and a destiny worth striving for.

Looking back on my life thus far, trying to pinpoint when one of my life-drives was revealed, I think of the biggest turning point that changed the trajectory of my life: becoming an amateur bodybuilder, winning the Mr. New York State bodybuilding championships, then Mr. Ontario, and eventually Mr. Canada.

I know firsthand the intense sacrifices needed to succeed in sport, and I would argue that few sports are as sacrificial as bodybuilding. Since it’s not just about athletic performance but also aesthetics, which requires us to work around the clock on our physiques—both in the gym and out of it—from workouts to dieting to giving up anything that resembles fun. Even though I was emaciated, desiccated, and deflated most of the time, wondering why I was putting myself through this torture, I felt purposeful beyond the suffering.

This ‘purpose’ was uncovered in the basement of my childhood home, where my father stored his old weight set. I don’t know what motivated me to start weight training—maybe it was because my friends were already lifting weights, and I dreamed of being strong and muscular, or maybe it was when I bought my first “Muscle & Fitness” magazine featuring the man who became my teenage hero, Arnold Schwarzenegger. All I know is that once I picked up my first set of dumbbells, experiencing the ‘feeling’ of being empowered, I never stopped, and it led me down a path I could never have imagined: not only becoming a bodybuilder, but later a personal trainer and not long after that, a fitness club owner. It all seemed to unfold naturally, though with a lot of sweat but little intervention from me.

Kris Sinpson- Bodybuilding

Discovering my devotion to health and fitness at just fourteen years old showed me that, in many cases, our calling can be revealed when we are most impressionable. If we listen to that call, we can follow it wherever it leads. In contrast, as we get older, we tend to lose awareness and flexibility because we’ve made up our minds, and we believe we no longer have time to waste.

When I was a lifestyle coach, one of my objectives was to bring enjoyment back into my clients’ lives, since many had devoted their adult lives to building their careers and growing their families. One of the most profound questions I would ask my clients was, “What do you do for fun?” and then watch them stare back at me, stunned.

This wasn’t meant to show them how unfun they had become; rather, it was to encourage them to explore what energizes or excites them outside of their repetitive daily commitments. Something solely to satisfy their needs, and paradoxically, making them more useful to others. When many of them struggled with this question, I quickly realized I needed to take them back to their childhood, when their purpose wasn’t yet defined, so they could remember what had once captivated them before culture and pressure [fear] had its hand in shaping them. When they were a blank slate—unshaped and still to be formed—what was it that called to them?

Many of us seem to be blessed, or if you’re a Darwinian, through our ancestors and natural selection, we have inherited talents or traits that are unique to each of us. By working with those characteristics, whether they are intellectual, creative, or physical, and being in the right place at the right time to use those natural advantages, our purpose might be a much easier path to see and follow.

But many might not see their gifts as others around them do. They might have a different view of their purpose, going in a completely different direction as those around them shake their heads and say, “What a waste of talent.” Or, fear might make them hesitant to use their “God-given talents”; for example, someone with a beautiful voice who would make an amazing singer but feels self-conscious and would never sing in public. It is stories like this that can lead to lasting regrets—something I explore in detail in my article titled, 'The “Top 5 Regrets of the Dying are stark lessons, but we must remember them daily.”

I remember a friend of mine from high school who was a gifted hockey player, one of the best in the small town I grew up in. Even with half effort, he was a star, which made me wonder why he didn’t take it seriously, since he was more interested in partying with us than fulfilling what seemed to be his destiny on the ice. He didn’t seem very purposeful to me, and I felt it was a shame he didn’t honour his gift.

Another example: the actor Johnny Depp, who always wanted to be a rock guitarist, moved to L.A. to fulfill his dream. After meeting another well-known actor, Nicolas Cage, and, desperate to make money, following Nicolas's recommendation, he went to his first audition. His first debut movie was “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” and the rest is history. Ironically, if you look at what Johnny is up to these days, you will see him on stage with a guitar strapped around him. He is obviously a very talented actor, but seems to find a lot of meaning and purpose in playing his guitar, which hasn’t brought him as much success, in terms of fortune and fame, as his acting. Nevertheless, he still remains passionate about playing music.

Living a life of purpose is a paradoxical act of being both steadfast towards your goal and open to nature’s subtle nudges in directions that are different or even opposite to our expectations. As we seek our purpose, the phrase "only in forgetting yourself that you will know yourself" is a deep paradox rooted in Zen Buddhism, suggesting that true self-awareness comes from letting go of the ego, self-consciousness, and fixed ideas about who we are. Your purpose may unfold in front of you, if you let it, by following the energy, and not getting in the way of nature doing what nature does.

After this exhaustive but not entirely complete exploration of meaning and purpose, I will return to what seems to be the simplest answer to discovering your purpose: Find God, and the meaning of life and your purpose within it may be revealed. Could it really be this simple?

One way to explain how this might be true is to place it into context. To find God, you must believe that there is something to discover that is not of this world. It is immaterial and from the metaphysical realm, which does not align with modern science, as it can only study what is measurable.

Having faith means believing in something without tangible evidence, so believing in the existence of a ‘God’ requires faith. To have faith, a level of surrender is necessary—accepting that scientific evidence may never be available, yet remaining faithful despite the absence of proof. It’s a form of blind faith as you venture into the unknown in search of truth, which ironically is the foundation of good science.

Faith demands a high level of trust, and I have realized that trusting oneself alone is not sufficient. If we are self-aware, we recognize that we are all human—imperfect and constantly growing, always in need of a wisdom greater than our own.

To this day, I still ponder on what that ex-nun, ex-prostitute, ex-real-estate agent, ex-millionaire, ex-alcoholic, and beyond-wise elderly lady told me that day at the retreat. You probably won’t find that type of advice in any self-help book, but it was one of the greatest pieces of advice that I have ever received.

Somehow, even in the haze of confusion, I knew it then, and still know it now: I will find meaning and purpose as I stay rooted in the God of my understanding, and surprisingly — it’s that simple.

Surrendering to a wisdom greater than ourselves, whatever that may be for you, is the unmistakable purpose—because that helps us become a little less afraid, a little more trusting, and a whole lot wiser, so we can see that our life was never really about us.