In a previous blog, Hold Your North: Tuning Into Purpose in a Loud, Divided World, I wrote about purpose as an orienting force—a kind of inner compass that helps us navigate uncertainty without being pulled in every direction. That framing still feels true to me. But lately, I’ve been sitting with a different question:

What happens when your sense of purpose starts to shift?

Not in a dramatic, blow-everything-up kind of way. But quietly. Subtly. Internally.
The kind of shift that doesn’t always have language yet—but won’t leave you alone. Many people I’m talking to right now feel this. Leaders. Helpers. Caregivers. Parents. People who have spent years doing what they thought they were supposed to do—only to realize that something about it no longer fits. Or maybe never fully did.

This isn’t necessarily a crisis of purpose.
It’s often an activation of it.

When the Old Story Starts to Fray

For a long time, purpose was framed for many of us as something external:

• A role you fill
• A title you earn
• A path you commit to
• A way of being “useful” or “good”

We absorbed messages, explicit and implicit, about what meaningful contribution was supposed to look like. For some, that meant achievement. For others, service. For many, self-sacrifice. And to be clear: there’s nothing inherently wrong with any of those.

But when the world starts to feel louder, harsher, more fractured, or when your nervous system is simply tired of performing, you may begin to notice cracks in the story you’ve been living inside. You might find yourself asking:

• Why does this feel harder than it used to?
• Why do I feel restless even when things look “fine” on paper?
• Why does what once motivated me feel flat or draining?

Often, this isn’t because you’ve lost your purpose. It’s because your internal truth has outgrown the version of purpose you were handed.

Purpose in a Time of Re-Orientation

In some circles, this moment in time is described in big, sweeping language—the New Paradigm, the New World, the Great Awakening. If you follow any form of new-age or spiritual thought, you’ve probably heard invitations to tune out external noise and “listen within.” Whether or not that language resonates with you, I think there’s something useful here. (All models are wrong. Some are useful.)

We are living in a time when many external structures no longer feel trustworthy, stable, or aligned. Systems are strained. Institutions are being questioned. Roles that once conferred meaning are shifting. In that context, purpose is less about finding the “right” answer—and more about listening for what wants to emerge through you now. Purpose becomes less fixed. More alive. More relational.

From Holding Purpose to Activating It

Holding your north is about orientation. Activating purpose is about movement. Not necessarily big movement. Often very small movement. But movement that comes from inside rather than obligation.

Activation happens when purpose moves from an idea to an embodied choice. You don’t activate purpose by deciding who you should be. You activate it by noticing where energy, curiosity, grief, anger, or aliveness are already present.

Signs Your Purpose May Be Shifting

Here are some common signals I see—both in others and in myself:

• You feel drawn to things that don’t “make sense” on your résumé
• You’re less tolerant of misalignment, even when it’s familiar
• You feel grief for paths you didn’t choose—or stayed in too long
• You feel protective of your time and energy in new ways
• You’re more interested in integrity than approval

These aren’t signs of confusion.
They’re signs of discernment.

Purpose Doesn’t Have to Be Big to Be Real

One of the most important reframes I want to offer is this:

Purpose does not have to be grand to be meaningful.

Our culture tends to romanticize purpose as:

• A calling
• A mission
• A singular life-defining contribution

But purpose can also be:

• How you listen
• How you lead
• How you create safety
• How you tell the truth
• How you choose to show up in one small corner of the world

Your purpose may express itself through your work—or alongside it. It may evolve across seasons of your life. It may feel quieter now than it once did. That doesn’t make it less real.

Activating Purpose Begins with Remembering

One powerful way to reconnect with purpose is to look backward—not to idealize the past, but to notice patterns.

1. What Lit You Up as a Child?

Before you learned what was practical or rewarded, what drew you in?

• Did you organize?
• Create?
• Protect?
• Ask big questions?
• Care for others?
• Wander and explore?

Often, purpose leaves early clues—not in the form of jobs, but in ways of being.

2. What Holds Your Attention Now?

Purpose isn’t only revealed through joy. Sometimes it shows up through:

• What you can’t stop thinking about
• What makes you angry
• What breaks your heart
• What feels intolerable to ignore

These are signals of care. And care is often the soil where purpose grows.

3. Where Do You Feel Most Like Yourself?

Notice moments—however small—when you feel:

• Aligned
• Present
• Clear
• Less performative

Purpose often lives there, quietly waiting for permission.

Activating Purpose Through Small, Brave Experiments

Purpose doesn’t require a leap. It requires experimentation. Instead of asking, What is my purpose? try asking:

• What feels a little more true right now?
• What’s one way I could honor that?

That might look like:

• Saying no to something that drains you
• Saying yes to something that feels risky but alive
• Creating without monetizing
• Speaking honestly in one conversation
• Protecting time for what matters

Activation happens through action—but action that is nervous-system informed, not fear-driven.

When Purpose Conflicts with Expectations

One of the hardest parts of activating purpose is navigating the gap between who you are becoming and who others expect you to be. This is where self-trust matters.

You don’t need to justify your purpose.
You don’t need consensus.
You don’t need to explain yourself perfectly.

Purpose isn’t proven by productivity.
It’s lived through congruence.

When Activating Purpose Disrupts Old Systems (Inside and Out)

One of the reasons activating purpose can feel unsettling is that it doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Your purpose didn’t form in isolation—and neither did the systems, roles, and expectations you’ve been living within. Families. Workplaces. Cultures. Professional identities. Survival strategies. All of these shape what felt possible, rewarded, or safe at different points in your life. So when something inside you begins to shift, it’s not unusual to feel friction.

You might notice:

• Guilt for wanting something different
• Anxiety about disappointing others
• Fear of being seen as selfish, flaky, or irresponsible
• A sense of disloyalty to an identity you worked hard to earn

This discomfort doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It often means your nervous system recognizes that an old way of being, one that once made sense, is no longer fully aligned.

Old systems, whether internal or external, tend to value consistency and predictability. Purpose, especially when it’s being activated rather than performed, introduces movement. And movement can feel threatening to systems built on stability, even when that stability came at a cost. This is why purpose work often needs grounding.

Why Grounding Matters When Purpose Is Shifting

When purpose begins to stir, the impulse can be to either:

• Rush toward clarity (“I need to figure this out now”), or
• Shut it down (“This is too disruptive—better not open this door”)

Grounding helps us stay in the middle. It allows us to remain present with uncertainty without forcing resolution. Simple grounding practices can support this process:

• Feeling your feet on the floor when big questions arise
• Slowing your breath when urgency spikes
• Noticing physical sensations as information, not instructions
• Orienting to what’s stable and supportive in the present moment

Grounding doesn’t answer the question of purpose for you. It creates the conditions in which purpose can unfold safely.

You Don’t Have to Change Overnight

Activating purpose is not a demand for immediate action or dramatic reinvention. More often, it begins as a whisper:

• A quiet no that didn’t used to be there
• A curiosity you keep returning to
• A longing you’ve stopped dismissing
• A sense that something is asking for your attention

Listening is enough—for now. You don’t need to burn bridges, quit your job, or announce a new identity. Purpose doesn’t require spectacle. It requires honesty and patience. Over time, as you continue to listen and stay grounded, the next step will make itself known. And when it does, you’ll be more resourced—internally and externally—to meet it.

Purpose as Relationship, Not Identity

I increasingly think of purpose not as something you are, but as something you are in relationship with.

It listens.
It changes.
It responds to context.
It grows as you do.

Activating purpose isn’t about arriving. It’s about staying in dialogue with what feels true—and allowing that truth to guide your next small step.

A Gentle Invitation

If you’re feeling unsettled, uncertain, or quietly restless right now, I want to offer this reframe:

Something may not be wrong.

Something may be waking up.

This week, I invite you to ask yourself one simple question:

What feels more true than it used to—and what might that be asking of me?

You don’t need an answer yet.
You just need to listen.

That listening is often the first act of purpose made real.

What I’m Loving This Week

Sound:
Quiet mornings and slower evenings—spaces where the noise softens enough for something truer to come through.

Practice:
Listening for the whisper instead of waiting for certainty. Letting purpose reveal itself through small moments of honesty rather than big declarations.

Tool:
Grounding pauses when discomfort arises—feet on the floor, one slow breath, and a reminder that I don’t need to resolve everything right now.

Quote:
“You don’t have to have it all figured out to be listening.”

Song:
Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

I’ve been returning to this song lately as a companion for moments of reflection. “Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?” feels like such an honest question—one that doesn’t demand an immediate answer. The song holds both grief and growth, the ache of change and the quiet courage it takes to face who you’re becoming. For me, it’s a reminder that listening inward—especially when things are shifting—isn’t a failure of certainty. It’s often the beginning of something more true.