Finding Personal Purpose In Doing

Borrowed

"Frankl says we detect rather than invent our missions in life. I like that choice of words. I think each of us has an internal monitor or sense, a conscience, that gives us an awareness of our own uniqueness and the singular contributions that we can make."

From The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey, quoting Viktor Frankl [Book]

Learned

At the end of February, I threw a surprise 65th-birthday luncheon for my dad. It's the type of idea I've had before, but I'd find some reason not to act on it. This time, the reasons were there. My older brother and his family couldn't be there. My niece's birthday party was the next day in Virginia and we'd all be going. I had work trips the week before and after. And so on. As I get older, though, I'm realizing that when you have these ideas, the best thing you can do is take action.

I brought together a group of people closest to him, including my uncle, whom we hadn't seen in years (sadly, until my grandparents passed). He lives in North Carolina now, but we've been more in touch than ever, and I figured I'd ask if he'd come celebrate. He said yes, and all I could think about was my dad's face when he walked in the venue and saw his brother.

Just after committing to throwing this party, I started reading The Art of Gathering. Author Priya Parker argues that most gatherings fail (or could be way better) because they lack a real purpose. Even weddings. I realized how much more deeply I think about this when it comes to work meetings and events, but in my personal life, it's easy to stop at a birthday party or dinner with friends.

When I thought about the purpose here, it was to make my dad feel appreciated, loved, and energized about this next chapter. So, when I invited everyone, I let them know to come prepared to share their favorite memory with my dad. After everyone had settled in, we went around the table, and each person (not each couple!) shared. I personally loved hearing from my wife, Dana, who shared her initial impressions of how supportive my dad and family were when coming to see me perform for the first time before we dated. I also passed around a Field Notes book, playing on the idea of "notes from his journey," and asked everyone to capture their memories there.

Toward the end, my dad said a few words and remarked, "These are usually the type of things that happen at a funeral. It's nice to hear it now while I'm here."

I've been riding high on that afternoon ever since. There's something about creating a moment like that for someone you love that stays with you.

Fast forward to this past week. I hosted another session of the local men's group I started late last year, called Denwork. Our last meetup had me questioning what I was doing. Only three guys could make it, and then at the last minute, one of them dropped out (sick kids). I ended up inviting the other two (one being my younger brother Justin) over to my place and did a couple of sessions in my sauna. It was nice, but in the back of my mind, thoughts of whether this was worth the time started to creep in.

Does anyone even want to be here?

In the end, I came to the conclusion that ad-hoc scheduling made it tough for the guys, mostly dads, to commit. So I sent a survey, asked for availability, and changed the time. This past week, we had 7 guys, including me, and a couple who were new. I drove home that night feeling so energized by the conversation and proud of myself for pushing through. I could tell a few of the guys really needed that space, and I kept thinking: what if I had quit?

I've thought a lot about my purpose, or mission, over the years, especially since becoming a parent. And this week, something started to come into focus. Maybe what I'm here to do is to create spaces for the conversations we're not having.

When I look back at my career, I've learned how leaning into tough conversations with vulnerability can invite others in. And I've seen the impact that can have on relationships. Until recently, I hadn't applied that mindset much outside of work. Not that I haven't wanted to. The truth is, it feels entirely different and way more uncomfortable.

At work, there's a frame for it. In my personal life, it's messier. The stakes feel higher, there's history, and oddly, it can be harder to show up vulnerably with the people closest to you than with a room full of colleagues. And yet, when I look at where I'm at and where I'm going, that's the path I want to follow. From the interviews on my podcast, The Long Aisle, to the conversations I foster among men each month. I'm sure these ideas will evolve, but for now, it feels good to name it and keep leaning in.

There's a part of me that hesitated to share this. My intention isn't for it to feel like someone looking for a pat on the back. It's more a chance to articulate a thought that's inspiring me, in hopes that sharing it inspires someone else, too.

The through line I want to keep with me: do it. Time keeps moving. Act on the things we feel drawn to, the things we know could matter because time won't wait. I have two kids under three, and they remind me every single day that the gap between thinking about something and actually doing it is where a lot of life gets lost.

& Thought

What have I been feeling drawn to that I keep finding reasons to put off?