We spend a lot of time asking people what they do.
Far less time asking them whether what they do still feels meaningful.
For many of us, a career begins pretty practically. We find something we’re good at. We build skills. We make a living. We take the next opportunity, earn the promotion, build the résumé, support our families, and keep moving forward.
And then, somewhere along the way, a different question starts creeping in:
Not because anything is necessarily wrong.
Sometimes it’s precisely because we’ve been successful that we finally have the freedom to ask a bigger question.
I keep coming back to the idea that purpose may exist at the intersection of four things:
What the world needs. What you love. What you’re good at. What you can make a living doing.
Any one of those things by itself isn’t necessarily enough.
You can be exceptionally good at something you no longer enjoy.
You can love something that was never meant to become your livelihood.
You can make an excellent living doing work that leaves you wondering whether any of it really matters.
And you can care deeply about solving a problem in the world without knowing how to turn that passion into something sustainable.
But when those four things begin to overlap?
That’s worth paying attention to.
I think sometimes we make the idea of “finding your purpose” much more intimidating than it needs to be.
Purpose doesn’t necessarily mean quitting your job, moving across the world, and dedicating your life to some enormous cause.
It can look much more ordinary—and much more personal.
It can mean creating good jobs for people in your community.
Building financial security for your family.
Solving a problem that makes someone’s life a little easier.
Creating a workplace where people are treated well.
Using decades of experience to mentor someone who’s just beginning.
Having enough control over your time to be present for the people you love.
Building something that belongs to you.
And yes, sometimes it can mean owning a business.
Not because business ownership itself is the purpose.
But because it can become the vehicle that allows someone to build a life around what matters to them.
I’ve talked with hundreds of people considering business ownership, and the reasons they begin exploring it are rarely just financial.
Of course money matters. A business has to make economic sense.
But underneath the numbers, there is usually something else.
Autonomy.
Legacy.
Flexibility.
Challenge.
Security.
Community.
A desire to build something.
A need to feel useful again.
Or simply the realization that they don’t want to spend the next ten or twenty years living exactly as they are today.
My job isn’t to tell someone what their purpose should be.
And it certainly isn’t to convince everyone that they should own a business.
It’s to ask enough questions to help someone understand what they’re really looking for—and then determine whether business ownership might help them get there.
Because the right opportunity shouldn’t just match your investment range or your résumé.
Ideally, it should align with who you are, what you’re good at, how you want to live, and what you want your next chapter to mean.
Instead of asking:
Maybe ask:
You may not have an immediate answer.
That’s okay.
Sometimes finding your next chapter doesn’t begin with an answer.
Sometimes it begins with one really good conversation.