Different than your gut sense of choice making is another subtle sensation you should keep track of if you actually give a shit about your time here.
And I’ll let you in on a little secret:
Purpose isn’t always one and done. You may be one of those people with an orienting focus that lasts a lifetime, and you die having lived well with plenty more to do. But you might also be the sort that has a driving force deeper than anything else that eventually completes so that something else can take the seat.
It doesn’t matter which you are.
Right now, there’s something that you cannot not do. Something that makes you squirm in your skin if you ignore it; you think about it when you’re “stuck” doing other things. And if an angel investor handed you an unlimited credit card with no obligation, you’d spend all your time focused on this particular thing.
It might be a mission.
It might be an art.
It might be a message.
It might be a value.
It might be a number of things, but regardless, it’s your fucking thing, bones deep.
If the intuition we’ve been talking about tells you left or right,
This purpose of yours tells you which road and what direction.
Even if you’re standing on a pile of success with all of the bells and whistles lined up, without purpose, that’s a hallow shell to hide in and it gets awfully lonely in there.
Now, I’d love to tell you that there’s a handy PDF worksheet you can do to find it. Hell, I’ve made a few for clients myself. They help a bit, but not enough. Too much head, not enough heart. Too much logic, not enough visceral experience. At this point, from my own experience and watching the guys that are really on it, I’m convinced Purpose is something only experience can find.
A steady flow of experiences.
A single epic experience.
Doesn’t really matter. Depends on how ready you are to get your shit together. But whatever speed you go, it’s pretty clear to me: the wild within you is calling.
It’s calling like a wolf on the wind,
Or a pack of coyotes off the canyon walls.
It’s calling you from elsewhere and inside all at once.
That thing that is neither chaotically feral or painfully domesticated is calling.
And ignoring that call is where the restlessness comes from. Where the anxious boredom resides. It’s where the ache in your bones originates every minute you ride through life in the passenger seat. And what I’ve noticed is that those that answer the call of their own rewilding are the ones that find their purpose. I won’t do the disservice of trying to explain the mechanism. That’s not how this works.
But when you know that it’s time, you know.
And when you know, come find me.