Passion, Place & Purpose

I recently listened to Adam Grant’s podcast Rethinking featuring Dan Gilbert, and it’s lingered in my thoughts ever since. Can we predict what will make us happy in the future? According to Gilbert, not with much accuracy. I highly recommend giving the episode a listen—it’s a powerful reminder that the best learning often comes from gathering as much information as possible, then filtering it through your own lens to discover what rings true for you.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I read every book I could find on pregnancy, parenting, breastfeeding, and child development. Sure, I could have simply asked a few trusted mothers for advice, but I wasn’t looking to follow someone else’s path. I wanted to figure out what my way was going to be. That approach—of doing the research, diving deep, and educating myself—has become a pattern for me. While I may not always make the “best” decisions, I make informed ones.

There’s a quote by Mark Twain I often return to: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” I try to hold that wisdom close. I know there’s so much I don’t know. I know that some of my assumptions may be outdated or just plain wrong. But I work to counter that by staying open, curious, and committed to learning—especially from good, reliable sources.

What’s really been on my mind lately is this: if I had known in advance how quickly and completely I would recover from some of life’s hardest moments, would I have suffered so much fear in the midst of them?

There have been seasons in my life when I truly believed I might be crushed by what I was going through—when grief, overwhelm, or hardship seemed to fill every corner. And yet, I always found a way forward. And I bet you have too. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve lived through loss, heartbreak, transition, and upheaval—and each of those experiences has taught me something meaningful.

Because I have learning differences, I became acquainted with struggle early on. I learned how to fall and how to get back up. Somewhere along the way, a little voice inside me began repeating: You are OK. And I am. Do I want more than OK? Absolutely. I want fabulous, fulfilling, extraordinary. And the more I affirm those words in my mind, the more they start to become real.

Even in life’s hardest moments—a divorce, a health scare, a major move, or an unexpected loss—I’ve always managed to come through it. What surprises me, though, is that I’ve rarely predicted how I’d emerge. And often, those “worst-case scenarios” I feared? They turned out to be… just OK. Or even better.

One question I ask myself often when facing a challenge or decision is: What’s the worst that could happen? That simple prompt helps clarify things. It brings perspective. We so often hesitate out of fear—fear of embarrassment, of rejection, of disappointment. But usually, the worst that can happen isn’t so bad. Usually, we’d be no worse off than we are now.

Lately, I’ve added another question: What’s the best thing that could happen? What outcome am I really hoping for? Because the mind tends to create only what it can imagine—and if we’re only imagining failure, we’re unlikely to create success.

That’s why I surround myself with reminders. Mantras on my bathroom mirror, Post-its over my desk, notes tucked in books or typed into my phone. They’re small nudges to remember the outcomes I’m working toward—whether they’re personal, spiritual, or professional.

I want a joyful, rich life—but even more than that, I want to feel satisfied. As Dan Gilbert points out, satisfaction comes from doing something you love and doing it well. So I’m trying to devote my energy to the people, pursuits, and practices I care deeply about and that I can do with excellence.

Right now, I’m living at the intersection of passion and talent. Interestingly, many of my passions found me by accident. Maybe that’s because I didn’t always have the confidence to pursue them head-on. Or maybe it’s just that life has a way of gently guiding us toward where we’re meant to be—toward the people we’re meant to love, the work we’re meant to do, the life we’re meant to build.

For me, it all comes down to three P’s: Passion. Place. Purpose. Some I’ve stumbled upon. Others I’ve fought hard to earn. But together, they anchor me.

So the next time something difficult happens, I’ll pause. I’ll breathe. And I’ll ask myself: What do I want now? Not, How will I go on?—because I already know that I will. I’ll move forward with passion. With purpose. And with those two things, I will always find my place.

With love and light,