Earlier this summer, Jim and I enjoyed a community band concert at a park in Door County, WI. Approximately 70 members of the Waunakee Community band performed. From my vantage point on the hill, the band appeared to be composed of mostly older folks wearing their purple polo shirts and khakis.  There were about 35 of us in the audience, at least half of whom seemed to be family/friends who had traveled a couple of hours with their band members.

We really enjoyed the music on a wonderful summer day but I had to ask myself: Why do these band members bother? I mean, they have to practice and then drive some distance to perform to, frankly, hardly anyone.  In the end, I figure that they go to the effort because they love making music together and are motivated by the prospect of blessing someone doing what they love. Whether it’s one person or 30 or 100.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been working on manuscripts to report findings from our most recent studies on purpose renewal for people who have experienced health transitions. We use the same standardized self-report instruments to measure before-after changes in purpose in life as are used in the scientific literature that evaluates the health and well-being benefits of living with purpose (see my new Research Brief). These data are extremely important but even more, I’m often moved by what participants tell us changes for them as the result of the purpose renewal process.

Earlier this month, I officially changed my work status from benefit-eligible part-time to casual. I watched my boss check new boxes on my HR record, including one that said “0 hours scheduled.” While I truly welcome this transition, I do not yet embrace the term “retired” as representing my status in life or my aspirations for this next chapter.

When you think of person who lives with a robust sense of purpose, who comes to mind? It’s tempting to assume that only fancy people with important jobs like Oprah, Dr. Fauci, or Michelle Obama (ok – you think of yours) are equipped or responsible to conduct purpose-directed lives, but of course, that’s not true.

Let me just say it: If we want a more robust sense of purpose, we probably need to shift something in our status quo. More than likely, this means doing something different and new, which, if you’re like me, is scary. Or terrifying (depending).

When our purpose pursuits go sideways: Gratitude as gateway to purpose

At some point, most of us will encounter circumstances that shatter life-as-usual and force us to appreciate the fragile and temporal nature of our lives. These experiences, often related to health, functioning, or relationships, can jolt us out of a mindless focus on petty distractions and catalyze a desire for authentic authorship and purpose in our lives and an appreciation for the poignancy of life itself (Yalom, 1980). This can be one of the small upsides of suffering but these potential dividends don’t come fast or easily, if at all.

In her guide to cultivating one’s inner monk and artist, Christine Valters Paintner observes the seasonality of our days, weeks, and/or years and suggests that predictable patterns influence the ebb and flow of our creative life. She posits that dried up periods of fallow, flatness, and dysfocus align with the “work” of Winter. That is, instead of representing our failure and unpardonable sloth, our Winter work is to rest, repair, and prepare for the germination of Spring that is silently underway.

People feel like they are purpose-full when their lives follow a pattern in which they make everyday choices that align with their inner Compass (i.e., their strengths, values, and sources of personal meaning). Given that the “guts” of our inner Compass are unique, each of us live out our sense of purpose differently. Let’s face it – those of us that funnel our purpose choices into accomplishing or creating something often get more affirmation and attention over others who focus on being a certain way in this world by intentionally enacting virtues like kindness, compassion, or gratitude in real-time.

I love writing goals for myself, especially on the cusp of a new month (week or year) after a good night’s sleep and a cup of coffee when everything in life feels oh so possible. However, sometimes my goal-achievement hit-rate is pretty paltry and discouraging, which prompts me to wonder about the value of setting goals in the first place.