Treading the Path to Purpose
Finding the courage to face the unknown
My relationship with Facebook usually looks like this: my sister posts cute animal photos and I open the app to look at them. I check the first two or three updates on my newsfeed— friends sharing engagements, graduations, weddings, and milestones in the lives of children. I like a few posts, but once I hit that first promotional post, I’m out. Social media, and its seeming omniscience about our lives, is not really my thing. But today, as I sat in a far-off corner of the Boston airport waiting for my flight home on a tiny Cessna 402C to board, I saw an ad for a woman who teaches other women how to safely and confidently backpack. For the first time in history, I clicked on a sponsored link. How, I wondered, had this woman started a business in a field so similar to my interests?
Over the past nine months as I have separated from my previous identity as a public school principal and begun to develop a new identity as a person (who also works) I have wondered which of my interests overlap with what the world needs (and will pay for!) It reminds me of this diagram of purpose that we used to talk with our students about in the College Readiness courses we offered at Summit. I remember we would open the unit on Careers with this diagram. We would ask students to reflect on this Venn Diagram, usually starting with the top (“You love it”) and progressing counterclockwise to answer the progressively more challenging questions. Most students can easily list a few things they love: their family, helping others, soccer, traveling, comic books, etc. Many have some idea what they’re great at, but at 16 there’s still lots to be discovered. Lots of students have much less of an idea of what one could expect to earn in a given career, both in terms of actual salaries and how likely it is to attain a given level of success. (Let’s just say a large proportion of our aspiring NBA players were encouraged to think of a backup plan.) But what does the world need? That’s a humdinger of a question. It depends so much on how WE see the world. And we all are limited to our own experiences. This is one reason why I’m convinced so many students follow in the footsteps of their parents, in careers that they’ve grown up around. All this to say, our wonderful junior students sometimes got a glazed look after a while of thinking about this diagram. My empathy for them is refreshed—it is really overwhelming to figure out what you want to do!
Even though it felt so risky to take the leap from a secure salaried job to starting my own business, I have known for some time now that my love for nature and the beautiful world we live in has to be a stronger part of my life’s work. I love to start things. I have great energy and vision. I love connecting with people. Time after time I have been told that my greatest gift is to see the potential in others that they are not aware of, and believe in them so much that they begin to believe in themselves. I felt so clear about what I love and what I’m good at, but could I really be paid for it? How bout enough to buy health insurance and pay a mortgage? Does the world need personal development or outdoor leadership experiences as much as I think it does? I wasn’t sure.
Last week I wrote about the Purpose Guide Institute training program I’m doing. (You can catch up on that post here.) My guide-in-training did the program himself, then decided to become a guide. Now he’s training me. I haven’t completed the program yet, but all the meditations and reflections I’ve done and the external input that I’ve collected over the past five months are pointing to a life’s purpose of holding space to witness and mentor others and to bring people back into connection with Mother Earth. Yet, that answer to the “Purpose” question feels somehow unoriginal. It’s what I thought before I began the program. It’s what Peter is doing. In some ways, I feel like I am a Russian doll, popping out of the likeness of the mentor who came before me. It makes me ask myself: “Am I doing this right? Am I hearing my Soul’s Purpose clearly?”
I have been trying to answer my own question for some time now. I am not done. Contemplating these questions is like walking through a gallery, picking up a beautiful concept, hefting it in my hand, touching it to see how it is made, and putting it down again. Sometimes, I move on and I forget that idea. Other times, I feel pulled back to a way of seeing this question again and again. So here is what I’m sitting with:
Is it possible that at this moment in time that the earth is calling out for more of us who want to reconnect the spiritual, intellectual, and physical? As we emerge from a national pandemic, unprecedented national disasters, and racial reckoning, is there a greater need for healers and guides who can help us rebuild the neurological bridges that used to connect all of our humanity? Am I following in the footsteps of my teachers not because I am unoriginal but because we are ALL needed to help our earth make sense of this interpersonal and environmental ultimatum we face?
When I see things this way I realize that “coaching” as I did it for seven years and more than 150 coachees was just scratching the surface. Helping people develop skills, tools, and mindsets to be better at their job was important, yes, but what about helping them lead more fulfilled lives? What about supporting their efforts to navigate relationships with integrity and exude love? What about helping them wrestle with how their work would impact the survival of our species? These topics held such depths to be explored. As I dive into them myself, I remember that these questions are the ones that really matter. The rest are details. As I explore these questions through my own Purpose Journey and personal work, I feel like an apprentice again.
Am I courageous enough to take the next step, even if I can’t see with perfect clarity where it will lead? My own coach has often told me that though the Achiever in me wants to see all of the steps to personal fulfillment and vocational success laid out in a brightly lit straight line, that’s not how the universe gives it to us. There is no syllabus for success. As much as I like to think that, if I do all the exercises in Designing Your Life, by the end I will know exactly how to make money, find fulfillment, and give and receive love, it just doesn’t work that way. Instead, we usually get to know “the next right step.” Maybe we talk about it with a trusted friend or advisor. Maybe we listen to our gut. Whatever it is, we usually can’t explain why it’s the right direction to go under the bright light of analysis—we just know. But as someone who’s spent the past twenty years carefully analyzing and weighing different options, that’s a terrifying prospect.
It’s around this time that I remember the Hero’s Journey. One of my favorite stories I’ve read recently is Madeline Miller’s Circe. In it, the young Circe decides to experiment with herbs, even though it’s frowned upon by her family. It leads her to discover her magic, which she uses to enhance her environment and protect those she loves. Along the way, Circe faces anger and threats from more powerful beings, but each of these trials pushes her to a new level of strength and power she didn’t know she had.
Can I be like Circe? Can I take a step towards my inclination and discover magic beneath? I’ll be honest, my analytical mind, my Inner Critic, still has a lot to say about this. You are not a witch. You are not a storybook character. Circe didn’t have a mortgage to pay, did she? But the enlivening magic of the earth in springtime is heartening. I look out my window and see my burgeoning vegetable patch. My flowers are opening and wafting scent. The acorns on the ground are in the process—many years long—of becoming mighty oaks. I don’t know how they make the transformation from squirrel food to a bastion of life. The acorn probably doesn’t know how it happens. But happen it does, and the evidence is tall around my house in the tender green leaves bursting forth.
I try to remember this: I am an acorn.