Purpose is what drives most of what we do.
Purpose gives us a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a reason to keep going when things are difficult, something to hold onto when the path seems dark, murky, uncertain.
Purpose can be tested by difficult life circumstances, by mental and physical challenges, by apathy, by frustration, by a lack of clarity, or by a lack of connection.
The more I’ve thought about purpose over the last several days, the clearer it has become to me that purpose is, to a certain extent, a choice.
In past moments of clear and uninhibited thinking, I’ve reflected a lot on and established for me what I believe is my purpose.
A large part of my personal purpose has to do with connection.
In my own art, it means growing closer to myself by working toward my potential, by tuning into my body, and by accessing new parts of my being.
In my teaching and working with others, the purpose comes in connecting with them and in helping them find pathways of deeper connection to themselves.
When I experience phases of disconnectedness, my feeling of purposefulness decreases.
Having recently moved to a new city after having completed a major life chapter as a student, these feelings are particularly poignant right now.
I recently moved to Hannover, a nearby city in which I already have some friends and with which I am also already somewhat familiar, and I know that this type of move isn’t quite comparable to the type of uncertainty one goes through when moving to an entirely unfamiliar city or starting an entirely new phase of life, but it nonetheless represents a newness, the type of newness that can leave one feeling, at first, a little disoriented.
Having gone through these phases many-a-time, I have determined that they simply have to be lived: with the knowledge that friends will get back from vacation soon, that one will meet new people, too, that it’s ok to sit in the uncomfortable silence alone and feel into what that means, that transitions are deeply emotional and that there’s no way around it.
When things like health-related or other personal challenges enter into the picture and knock one sideways, the sense of purposefulness one might normally have often takes a hit.
I have also experienced moments like this on many occasions, moments that left me asking myself questions like: “why am I doing this?” or “what does this actually mean to me?”
A feeling of doubt in oneself and in one’s choices often arises in these moments.
This doubt is fed, in part, by what I believe to be a misconception of purpose.
The concept of purpose is often understood to be synonymous with the concept of passion.
Passion, different than purpose, indicates a fiery, constant, euphoric feeling about something.
If I’m honest with myself, I don’t always feel passionate about my purpose.
The pressure to feel constantly passionate about something that one deems as worthy is an unrealistic standard that easily leads to burnout, feelings of guilt, or doubt about whether or not what one is pursuing is really worthwhile.
One begins to subconsciously think that not being able to constantly muster up a feeling of passion about something means the death of one’s purpose.
The reality is, we’re all human.
There are days when the alarm rings and nothing sounds better than pressing snooze because it’s cold outside but warm in the bed.
There are days when you want to say “just fuck it all” because the world seems too difficult to face.
These things are human and important to allow space whenever they arise.
I’ve found the only anecdote to the “fuck everything” blues is to scribble it out violently on a piece of paper, or yell “AHHHHH FUCK IT ALL!” or something similar.
Why should I force myself to feel passionate in those moments?
I shouldn’t.
So I don’t.
Where is the space for purpose, then, when life hits us this way?
Here enters the concept of purpose as a choice.
In happy, content, balanced moments, I have determined for myself that working with voice is my purpose.
In not as happy, not as content, not as balanced moments, I question everything.
We know that the psyche tends to torture us when we are already feeling out-of-sorts.
The things we would believe on a normal day to be true about ourselves become impossible to believe and it feels difficult to accomplish much of anything.
In these moments, the choice to engage with our purpose anyway is what makes the difference.
After having recently been sick and immediately moving afterward and all the busyness and stress that accompanied these things, the span of time in which I hadn’t practiced singing grew longer.
I know from experience that the first several sessions of singing after not having done any for a while are pretty difficult: think of the first run after you haven’t run in awhile awhen your muscles hate you and every part of you screams:
“GOOD LORD, JUST STOP”.
It feels like that.
I know from experience that I have to survive this phase for a few days before I begin to feel like I’m not a total beginner again.
When these phases are combined with the challenges I have already mentioned, motivation can be low.
I find it helpful to remind myself in these moments that I’ve determined my purpose on clearer days and to take the pressure off myself to feel great about what I’m doing, reminding myself that it’ll get easier again.
Feeling stuck in understanding what your purpose is as an artist or doubting if your determined purpose is actually fulfilling to you? Here are my thoughts:
Write it out when you’re in a clear frame-of-mind. It can take time to establish a feeling of purpose in something. Writing down patterns of what you’ve noticed has been meaningful or significant to you in your life can be a good place to start. Do this when you are able to think clearly and are feeling positive, and refer to what you’ve written again on days when your purpose feels murkier.
Think in terms of values. What feels important to you even on the gloomiest of days? How could that be a pathway to your art or vice versa?
Be flexible. As we change, what matters to us changes too. If a purpose feels outgrown or no longer relevant, it’s perfectly valid to call it into question and ask oneself if something else might be have become more important.
Take off the pressure. The passionate artist stereotype doesn’t have to cage us in or make us think we have to be constantly on fire for something. Allow yourself the space to be human and to feel neutral, bored, apathetic, sad, low, or whatever else arises in regard to your art. If there’s still space somewhere inside you for this art form, which there more than likely is, that space will lead you back into natural intrinsic motivation once you’ve allowed room for the other feelings.
Practice some discipline. If you don’t want to do the thing you know you need to do to ultimately feel more purpose in the end (i.e. practice your instrument), at least 8/10 times, do it anyway. It’s like working out. You’ll feel better afterward. If your “fuck it” mood is much too strong, then deal with the case of the fuck its first and then start later.
Connect. While there are surely exceptions to this, most of us are driven in most of what we do by our desire to be seen, feel understood, and feel valued, and in helping others to feel the same in our connections with them. A true feeling of deep purposelessness could be the result of a deep loneliness. A lack of inspiration or desire to make art, so, to connect with oneself, could indicate that another human need isn’t being fulfilled. Try and address this and see if the feeling of purposefulness finds a deeper expression again.
I haven’t done a whole lot today.
I woke up, very grumpy after a night of not good sleep when my alarm went off, guzzled some caffeine and schlepped myself to the Citizens Registration Office to register myself as a citizen in Hannover.
I arrived cranky and I felt crankier when I waited forty minutes only to be told that I needed to go back home and get my passport in addition to my ID card because I am a foreigner and had to start the whole process again.
I had three interactions, though, which lifted my spirits.
I met a man in line with whom I talked while waiting, and who wished me luck before my number was called.
Simple, but heartwarming.
I helped a woman who was struggling with the machine to get her ticket and she smiled at me for about the next ten minutes in her gratitude.
Then, the nice case worker who eventually helped me register gave me a nice Hannover tote bag filled with flyers about things to do in the city as a welcome gift.
Now I’m here, writing this.
And I feel good, I feel a sense of purpose, knowing that this will go out into the world, hoping that it will speak to someone who reads it.
Purpose is a sense of something bigger that keeps us moving forward.
When we understand what it really means and choose to engage with it to the best of our ability, it can add meaning to life when life gets messy and move us, little by little, closer to the beauty of our goals.
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