We tend to talk about purpose as though it is something we have to find. Out there. A particular thing we do. That’s a seductive story to tell; it has the hero’s journey written all over it. Who doesn’t love a meaningful quest? The problem is that this kind of storytelling unwittingly sets us up for unnecessary disappointment.
If finding purpose is about getting (and keeping) that perfect job, then we’re screwed because restructuring happens: it’s the cancer diagnosis, the divorce, an emerging obligation to aging parents, or maybe your department gets outsourced and you’re suddenly working for a new employer, the list of uncontrollable curve balls goes on.
If my sense of purpose is tied to a particular job, then I’m giving a lot of power to someone else to determine the degree of meaning and fulfillment I experience. But I’m a big girl. I know my response to circumstances has tremendous power to shape my life. So what of it?
What if we don’t find purpose in the thing we do? What if we bring purpose with us in the way we do the thing?
What if my purpose wove its way into whatever job I have, through whatever circumstance I happen to find myself? What could I do right now with the resources I currently have that perfectly aligns with my beliefs and values?