DEAR MAYA: Finding purpose through the noise
Editor’s note: Dear Maya is a series of letters written for anyone navigating a career transition, questioning their path, or searching for something more meaningful in the work they do.
They told you to find your passion. Follow your dreams. Pick the “right” job. You know, the one that makes you feel something, the one with beanbag chairs and free coffee and a mission statement that sounds like slam poetry.
They told you that purpose was out there, somewhere, waiting to be discovered. “Join our team and you’ll find your family. Take up our mission and your purpose will crystallize.”
And maybe you believed them. Maybe you tried.
But the truth is: the noise is deafening.
Scroll long enough–Instagram, Tik Tok, whatever, and everyone seems to be doing better, going faster, knowing more. Every job ad is “a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” Every company is “reinventing the future.” Everyone else appears to have cracked the code. They’re living their best lives while you stare down another Monday with that low-grade ache, an incessant gnawing in your stomach.
What no one tells you is how loud it gets. The opinions, the LinkedIn platitudes, the pressure to optimise every single moment of every single day of every single year of the rest of your existence.
There’s no stillness in it, no space to hear your own voice. Your brain is screaming and you can’t hear it.
So you start to wonder…Is it me? Am I behind? Did I miss something everyone else just gets?
“Scroll long enough–Instagram, Tik Tok, whatever, and everyone seems to be doing better, going faster, knowing more.”
Let me stop you there, Maya. It’s not you. It’s the system that sold you the illusion that clarity was just one perfect job away. That the stars suddenly align and you’re living your best life on a boat off the Miami coast, money-cashing sounds pinging out of your laptop at lightspeed while you are 30 minutes into an hour long meditative trance.
Here’s the thing about purpose: it doesn’t shout. It doesn’t come with a signpost or a job title. It’s quiet. Personal.
It shows up in what you notice. What you’re drawn to. What you can’t unsee. The colours that appear when you squeeze your eyes closed.
Purpose isn't a five-point plan. It’s a pulse. And sometimes it’s faint at first. Buried under years of doing what you thought you were meant to do. What others promised you should do.
So how do you find it in the noise?
You come back to yourself. Not to build a brand. Not to polish a pitch. To listen. Just listen.
You ask: What do I value not because someone told me to, but because it’s what I keep choosing when no one’s looking? What gives me energy? What drains it?
Where do I come alive?
These aren’t questions you answer in one sitting. They’re questions you live into. But at least they give you a starting point. A North Star.
Because when you’re clear on what matters to you, decisions start to feel different. You can spot the jobs that only look good on paper. You can tell when something’s performative versus aligned. You begin to trust your own compass, not the one someone else handed you with the needle spinning ‘round 360 degrees.
And here’s the quiet truth, Maya: the world needs more people who are grounded in themselves.
Not louder. Not flashier. Just honest. Real. Steady.
Your purpose doesn’t need to save the world. It needs to feel true.
It’s okay if you’re still working that out. It’s okay if you’ve been hurt by jobs that promised meaning and delivered burnout. It’s okay if your direction has changed or if it changes again a year from now.
That doesn’t make you lost. It makes you human.
So take a breath. Come back to yourself. Not the version you think the market wants. The version that’s been here all along, quietly waiting to be heard.
You don’t need to be certain, you just need to begin again. This time from within.
With care,
Josh
