✨ What I found when I went looking for Divine Purpose at work
Hint: it wasn't a crazy hack to be get more done faster
“Beauty isn’t all about just niceness, loveliness.
Beauty is about a more rounded, substantial becoming.”
— John O’Donohue
The brush skips and drags as I pull it down the canvas. There’s more paint at the top of the stroke and it glides easily at first, tugging the glossy red paste behind. Gradually the paint runs out and the bristles scratch the grain of the canvas, blending the last of the paint into the surface. I’m prone to brushing over and over a spot, blending and perfecting a detail until I’ve blended the life right out of it. I started painting on wood panels to stop myself — the slick, hard surface doesn’t collect paint as easily so I have to slap it on like I know what I’m doing or I might accidentally wipe everything off. I very often glop something in the wrong place and have to cuss a lot before I can come back and fix it, but it’s the best way to short circuit my neuroticism and get the feeling of what I see onto the page without my brain getting in the way.
In college I would get the biggest pieces of paper I could find and lay them out on the polished concrete floor of the painting studio — crawling on my hands and knees with a graphite stick I’d stretch myself over the pages to pull out the bend of a spine or the dip of a hip by arcing my arm from the center of my chest. I remember the theck-foosh-theck of the graphite as I carved out shapes, my palms on the cool floor — the breathless joy of looking becoming movement becoming marks becoming bodies becoming beauty.
There’s been a lot of surprises in the research for On Purpose, but I promise you I never thought I’d find myself writing “beauty” in giant capital letters at the top of my notebook as one of the big themes. I figured I’d see a lot of stuff about healthy boundaries and rest and not being obsessed with wealth (I did!) but when I saw this little glistening thread of joyful fulfillment weaving through my conversations with folks who seemed the most free … I was honestly just confused.
For the longest time I called it “purpose.” Some part of me (ok most parts of me) still wanted to believe a healthy relationship with work had a lot to do with finding The One: the right kind of work that perfectly aligns with each person’s unique “true purpose” on earth.
Growing up in the evangelical church I heard about God’s Plan for me alllll the time. He had it all laid out — all I had to do was to figure out what it was and the rest would be gravy. A lot of religions have a flavor of this idea. Dharma if you’re hindu, qadar if you’re muslim. Profit if you’re American! Even better if you’re Christian AND American – just ask Joel Osteen. The more you fulfill your divine purpose in life, the more money God deposits in your bank account. #BestBossEver
We love this idea — I think because it gives meaning to whatever’s making us miserable while at the same time providing an actionable solution. If you’re unhappy, you just haven’t found your purpose yet! Keep going, big guy. A lot of people in the self-help space make big bucks promising that they have the best method to help you find yours. Framing discomfort as a failure of self-actualization is a pretty amazing business model if you can stomach the lie.
Anyway, suffice to say I think I can be forgiven for seeing this vibrant, enthusiastic energy for “work” as a glimpse into enlightenment. Ready to build my case, I went back into the data to look and see what job each person had found that had set them free.
There was Yvette who does design consulting, runs a kids food blog, paints watercolors for her sister’s organic farm and is now building a trampoline park. And Tuan who quit his entry-level finance job to build up (and then scale back) an architecture firm before then starting a couple of restaurants and learning how to mix craft cocktails because the guy can’t get enough of a good time. And Hugo who played varsity football before starting a music promotion company in his dorm room. He ended up flying out to LA to make websites for Russell Simmons on the weekends and starting his own streaming service before snagging a title at a big tech company. Oh and he also runs a popular industry podcast on the side.
Not only was there no Dream Job that fit perfectly and unlocked their singular purpose in life, there wasn’t even a singular career. The paths were messy — there were starts and stops, big gambles, hard work and some burn out. They were connected by their wandering. If something captivated their interest, they’d master the industry and skills needed to do it well — opportunities that were lucrative but mechanical were left by the wayside.
“I’m looking for what feels great —maybe subconsciously. When I’m creating something new it’s this amazing high — nothing can go wrong. I’m firing on all cylinders.” — Tuan
“Having creative flow, it’s a sensation, a state — I start humming. I get the urge to put music on and dance in my chair.” — Hugo
“I’ve gotta find joy in my work. It’s gotta be satisfying.” — Yvette
They weren’t looking for money or fame or influence — they just wanted to spend as much of their lives plugged directly into the universe, mind silent, body moving in time with the flow of ideas. To soak for as long as they can in the wonder of beauty as a lived experience.
“When you regain a sense of your life as a journey of discovery, you return to rhythm with yourself. When you take the time to travel with reverence, a richer life unfolds before you.” — John O’Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace
I didn’t go to art school. I loved making art and I was really good at it — but I didn’t go to art school because I couldn’t see the point. I remember sitting at the dial-up modem in our thinly insulated bonus room over the garage to pull up Pratt’s website in 1999. Tuition was expensive. I needed a portfolio. Who knew if I could even get in, let alone what I would do when it was all over with? It was unpredictable. Better to play it safe and carve out a business degree between classes in the art building.
Once in the working world, I measured my success with the tools we all use — the significance of my job title, the size of my pay check. I always figured I’d find that feeling of connection and purpose in the next job, a little higher on the ladder. If I could just find the right job, I’d have enough money and time to make art again. But the rushing and the fire drills and the meetings after the meeting and the phone call from the boss while I’m making dinner — there’s never any time to just be. Even when I wanted to sit down and make art I felt paralyzed by the inability to wander around in my own mind. Paralyzed by the constant feeling that time is ticking and I won’t have anything to show for it. I’d forgotten how to make room for the beautiful. If I can’t turn it into an income there’s no point in doing it at all.
What would it take to learn how to measure success by how much space I can create? To remember how to wait and see what I find ?
Me in the studio, plugged directly into the universe:
This is beautiful, and why am I unsurprised that you're as talented at painting as you are at writing? 💕
PS: fuck God's plan. I like what Ram Dass had to say: "Your entire life is a curriculum. Everything you've got on your plate is where the stuff for your enlightenment is."
Absolutely! And it always feels so satisfying publishing a piece involving a bit of intellectual wrestling 🤼