The lie that keeps you searching for purpose

And the truth that finally gets you moving.

People don’t talk about it much, but one of the quiet frustrations of adult life is the feeling that something meaningful is supposed to happen - and it just… doesn’t.

You work, you rest, you scroll, you do what you’re supposed to. But there’s this itch that something’s missing. Something deeper.

So you wait. For inspiration, for purpose, for some clarity to show up and tell you: Here. This is what your life is for.

But waiting for life to give you meaning is like waiting for a lump of clay to give you a statue.

The clay doesn’t do anything on its own. You have to shape it.

This is hard to hear, but also freeing: there is no “meaning” waiting out there for you to find. No big cosmic secret with your name on it. There’s only this raw material - your days, your energy, your attention - and what you choose to do with it.

The old Vedantic texts put it simply:

Desire leads to action. Action leads to meaning. Not the other way around.

So if you feel a little lost, stop looking for the answer. Start making a mark. Not a big dramatic life shift. Just a small, purposeful one.

Write the book. Build the thing. Message someone you admire. Try the idea that’s been circling in your head for too long. Give something form - and let it teach you what you care about. Even if you’re not sure. Especially if you’re not sure.

You don’t figure it out in your head and then act. You act, and then figure it out as you go.

Most people stay frozen, waiting for the perfect thing to appear. But life doesn’t work that way. Meaning comes after movement. You carve away the parts that don’t fit. You shape by subtraction. You press your hands into the day, and bit by bit, something starts to take form.

It’s okay if it’s messy. You’re not aiming for perfect. You’re just showing up. Again and again. That’s the real work.

And slowly, something starts to feel right. You’re no longer sitting around hoping the clay becomes a statue. You’re in motion. You’re participating.

And when you do that - when you meet life halfway - something surprising happens:

You stop asking what your purpose is, and you start living it.

Capsicum fuctu olivario erecto. Illustrated by Jacob van Huysum, c.1730.