For years—decades even—I’ve contemplated one of life’s oldest questions: What is the purpose of all this? And now, I believe I’ve found an answer. One that may spare you the long search.
There are many intelligent theories we conjure when reflecting on why we’re here—on what defines the human experience. Some say it’s to raise a family, to build something lasting, to serve others, to fall in love, to leave a mark, or simply to be there for the people we care about. All of these answers hold truth. And because purpose is deeply subjective, what feels true to you, is true to you.
Still, there are two beliefs I hold strongly.
First: it’s worth asking the question. Every human benefits from taking the time to consciously explore why they exist. That inquiry—sometimes thrilling, often uncomfortable—leads to meaning. And meaning leads to a life marked not by fleeting pleasure, but by depth. Some find their answers early. Others take a lifetime. But there’s no prize for speed. What matters is that your answer is yours.
Second: purpose is not fixed. It evolves as we do.
Over the years, my own answers to this question have shifted many times. Not because earlier ones were wrong—but because deeper truths slowly emerged. Today, I see purpose on two levels.
The first is personal and time-bound: a life task or mission. This could be raising a child, building a company, earning a degree, or committing to a relationship. These are deeply meaningful, but not permanent. When one is complete, another often takes its place. We are constantly reborn into new purposes. Most of us can relate to this.
But the second level is more abstract, more universal.
Simply put: the purpose of life is to experience.
Beneath all the doing and becoming, there is something within us that watches. You can call it soul, spirit, awareness, consciousness, God, or whatever language suits you best. But it’s not your body, your mind, or your senses. It’s the observer. The silent presence that witnesses everything. And that presence has only one task: to experience life fully.
All of it. The highs and the lows. The clarity and the chaos. The joy, the pain, the confusion, the wonder. Without judgment. Without needing to explain. Just—experience.
What I love about this idea is that it liberates us from the burdens modern life so often imposes: the need to perform, to prove, to fit in, to signal our worth. These are constructs born of lack. Of fear. Of not enough. But pure experience—awareness itself—operates from abundance. It requires nothing. It already is.
And the doorway to it is not found in status or achievement. It’s found in presence. In letting go. In becoming fully awake to the moment you are in.
For me, the most powerful definition of purpose I’ve discovered is simply this: to experience. To live it, to feel it in every cell of my body. And in doing so, I find myself becoming the most fulfilled, curious, resilient, and alive version of who I am.
Because now, even struggle has meaning. Even pain becomes part of the unfolding. And my role is not to control it or resist it—but to be with it. To witness it. To experience it fully.
That, to me, is the secret of life. And the purpose of being alive.