Our Purpose Leaves Clues

It's the spring of my second-grade year, and I spend the entire bus ride home rehearsing the question I'm going to ask my mom that evening. After what feels like days, she finally walks through the front door. I've been waiting all afternoon because there's something I need to ask her. She eyes me suspiciously, her motherly instincts preparing her to tell her second child no, something she's well-practiced at by this point.

I march up to her and, with a tone that won't be refused, say, "Mother, I'm going to audition for the community talent show. I'll be telling jokes."

I wince, realizing I'd just told my own mother what I'd be doing instead of asking, but I stand my ground and wait for her reply.

She exhales, clearly relieved it isn't something else, and says, "Okay. What's your first joke going to be?"

A few weeks later, I'm backstage rehearsing with my joke book. I'd written a few of my own jokes, but decided to go with some old classics instead. Moments before my audition, I get nervous. What if they don't laugh? Worse, what if they laugh at me? What if I'm bad at this? Why did I want to do this in the first place?

I'd never had these thoughts before. As my seven-year-old self begins to spiral, they call my name. It's my turn. The backstage host pulls back the curtain and points to a microphone in the middle of the stage. The lights are blinding, and the room is mostly empty except for a few people with clipboards near the front of the auditorium.

I take a deep breath, smile as big as I can, and skip onto the stage. My anxieties melt away as I deliver punchline after punchline. The judges laugh, scribble notes on their clipboards, and before I know it, it's over.

I've told that story dozens of times, but I'd never stopped to wonder why I wanted to audition in the first place. What possessed a seven-year-old kid to volunteer for a talent show? To this day, I can't even remember how I heard about it.

A few weeks ago, I began reading Mastery by Robert Greene, and in the first chapter he hinted at a possible answer. Greene contends that each of us is born with an inner voice, a force that seeks to guide us toward what we're meant to achieve in this life.

Greene calls it our "Life's Task." Simon Sinek calls it our "Why." Napoleon Bonaparte called it his "Star." Viktor Frankl simply called it "meaning."

Regardless of what we call it, human beings have been trying to answer the same question for thousands of years: Why am I here?

As a writer and speaker, I talk about purpose often, but it's easy to let the conversation become philosophical. The more I study it, the more convinced I become that there are practical ways to begin answering that question.

Greene suggests the first step is to look inward, specifically at our childhood. Before we worried about resumes, salaries, or what other people expected of us, we were naturally drawn toward certain things. Those interests may not tell us everything about our purpose, but they often leave clues.

I ended up being selected as the co-emcee for the talent show, telling one joke between acts. Strangely enough, the excitement of holding a microphone, making people laugh, and speaking to an audience never faded. I've now built a career doing that exact thing.

I didn't audition because I thought it would become a career. I auditioned because something in me wanted to step onto that stage.

Looking back, it's easy to see that afternoon as one of the first threads leading to the work I do today.

Take a few minutes this week and think back to your own childhood. What did you love doing simply because you loved doing it? What made you lose track of time? What did people constantly have to pull you away from?

Don't look for a perfect answer. Look for the patterns. Discovering your purpose isn't always about finding something entirely new. It's often about noticing the threads that have been woven through your life all along.

Fact

Psychologists call it the reminiscence bump. Research shows we remember an unusually high number of meaningful experiences from childhood and early adulthood because those years help shape our identity. Looking back isn't just nostalgic, it can be revealing.

Action

Ask someone who knew you as a kid this simple question: "What did I love doing when I was little?"

Question

What's one interest from your childhood that still shows up in your life today?

Quote

"Your vocation in life is where your greatest joy meets the world's greatest need."

- Frederick Buechner