I’ve spent a lot of this week stuck inside, fighting off some winter bug, isolated from the world outside, and forced into stillness. Truth be told, I was uncomfortable. I craved my routine, craved being around people. You can only watch so much TV or lay in bed scrolling TikTok before you start to go mad.
Maybe there was a time in my life when I could do this without issue, but since becoming a parent, my perspective on time has changed. To be sidelined with illness as the days pass feels like a waste. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me to slow down.
During this downtime, I found myself reflecting on my current place in life — questioning the purpose of the goals I’m working toward, and even questioning the purpose of some of my hobbies, including this very blog. It brought forward a deeper question though. Not “What is the purpose of all this?” but rather, “What is the importance of purpose itself?”
Having a sense of purpose isn’t just about grand achievements. It’s about direction, meaning, and a sense of wholeness in how we live each day. Purpose gives us a reason to get out of bed, helps us strive for something greater, and builds resilience when we fall short.
The purpose instinct
There’s something deeply human about needing a reason to get up in the morning. Across cultures and centuries, purpose has acted like an internal compass — quietly shaping our choices, energising our actions, and giving meaning to even the hardest moments. It’s not a luxury; it’s a survival mechanism. Without it, we drift. With it, we endure, build, protect, love, and evolve. Purpose, in many ways, is our most ancient instinct — as essential as food, shelter, and connection.
In early human history, purpose wasn’t abstract. It was immediate and embodied: hunt, gather, protect, procreate, contribute to the tribe. Rituals, storytelling, and spiritual traditions arose as ways to deepen that purpose, to pass it down and root it in something larger than the self. There was no existential crisis about meaning when survival and belonging were purpose enough. But as civilisation advanced, and life became safer and more structured, purpose became more psychological than physical — and with that shift came both liberation and confusion.
Today, many of us have more options than ever before, but often less clarity. We’re told to “find our passion” or “live our truth,” but few of us are given the tools or rites of passage to actually understand what that means. The ancient drive for purpose is still alive in us — but it’s often misdirected into achievement, addiction, or apathy. We chase what looks good instead of what feels right. And in doing so, we ignore the quiet voice inside that’s been there all along, asking: What am I here for?
That question doesn’t go away. In fact, the longer we ignore it, the louder it becomes — manifesting as restlessness, depression, or burnout. Purpose isn’t something we stumble upon by accident; it’s something we return to when we remember who we are and where we’ve come from. It’s less about the job title or mission statement and more about how we show up — for ourselves, for others, for life.
The purposes I’ve known
When I look back over the eras of my life, I can see how my purpose has shifted. After high school, I was lost — newly moved across the country, isolated, deeply addicted to video games, and without a model for what a young man stepping into adulthood should be. Back then, my purpose was more reactive: to escape, to survive, to assert independence. And even if that wasn’t a conscious mission, it still carried me forward.
Then came my first real job, my first time moving out, the slow grind of adulthood. For a while, my purpose became financial independence — saving for a home, climbing the ladder, refining my trade. I spent years working in remote parts of Australia, showing up, doing the hard things, building not just skills but grit.
Eventually, purpose started to grow beyond me. I found meaning in the relationships I built at work — particularly in mentoring and guiding others. I loved being someone people could come to for advice or direction. That part of me didn’t fade — it expanded when I became a father. These days, I wake up with a very different kind of purpose: to provide for my family, to be present as a father, uncle, brother, and friend.
Statistically, we’ll spend most of our lives knowing our children as adults. But right now, I know my child as a child. And this era — this sliver of time — is a grain of sand in the hourglass. My purpose now is clear: to guide this little boy so that one day, when he steps into manhood, he can plant his feet firmly on solid ground.
A modern malaise
We live in an age of paradox. Never before have we had this much access to opportunity, information, and freedom. Yet so many people — men especially — feel lost, numb, and directionless. This is the cost of a culture that prizes consumption over contribution, comfort over character.
Without purpose, we tend to fill the void with noise. We overwork, overtrain, overconsume. We mistake productivity for meaning, chasing metrics instead of depth. And then we wonder why we feel burnt out, disconnected, or deeply unsatisfied.
Modern men are rarely initiated into purpose. We’re not taught to reflect on values or legacy — only to chase goals. We’re encouraged to make money, look good, get ahead — but not to ask: Why am I really here? Who am I becoming? Without the grounding presence of mentorship, tribe, or spiritual guidance, many of us are left to wander through life alone, quietly aching for something more.
But that ache is a gift. It’s a signal — not of something broken, but of something waking up.
Purpose is a path
Purpose isn’t a destination we arrive at — it’s a relationship we build with life. It changes. It matures. It deepens. Sometimes it burns bright and loud; other times it’s a quiet, steady flame. But it’s always there, waiting for us to reconnect.
If you feel lost, you’re not broken. You’re being invited to return. Start small. Ask yourself: What matters to me right now? Who do I want to be for the people I love? What kind of man do I want to become in this season of life?
Listen closely.
You’ll find the answer isn’t out there — it’s already inside you.
-TIM


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