How to figure out your purpose in life in 5 minutes

This post was inspired by this “How to figure out your purpose in life” TED talk by Adam Leipzig that has 232 000 likes on Youtube, and for very good reason too – it is literally life-changing (watch below).

I have spent the last week creating a DIY course about identifying one’s life purpose.

Why? Because I clearly do not have enough to do, leading online protocols, hosting onsite Camino de Santiago walking retreats here in the southwest of France, feeding my cats and horses at relatively regular hours, keeping the house standing, the garden accessible and the paddocks securely fenced, and writing articles, newsletters and blog posts in the minutes during the one or two waking hours that are left.

Actually, I created this online course about identifying your life purpose because, since the pandemic, my retreat guests seem to be obsessed with it.

As in, “I have been searching for my life’s purpose my whole life long! I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve read all the books, attended all the seminars, completed all the online courses (Really? You completed all the courses?) had counselling, had coaching, had my palm read…and I still don’t know!”

Why do you want to know what your life purpose is?

Because it significantly and dramatically lowers your stress levels.

What This Article Is About (In 30 Seconds)

Picture this: you’re standing at life’s most overwhelming junction—bills unpaid, emails unanswered, dreams deferred—wondering if you’ve accidentally enrolled in someone else’s existence. Now imagine having an internal compass so reliable that even when chaos reigns, you know exactly which direction matters. That’s what understanding your life purpose does for stress. This isn’t about finding some mystical calling written in the stars (though if yours is, brilliant). It’s about discovering the “why” that makes the “what” bearable—and discovering it might be simpler, funnier, and more transformative than you’d think.

Five Key Takeaways about How to figure out your Purpose in Life

1. Life purpose acts as a natural stress filter, helping you distinguish between what genuinely matters and what’s merely masquerading as urgent
2. Purpose doesn’t eliminate stress; it transforms your relationship with it, turning anxiety into meaningful tension rather than paralysing fear
3. Your life purpose needn’t be grandiose—it can be beautifully ordinary, like creating spaces where people feel seen and heard
4. Clarity around purpose dramatically reduces decision fatigue, that exhausting mental state where choosing between almond milk varieties feels like a philosophical crisis
5. Purpose-driven living increases resilience, giving you something larger than temporary setbacks to anchor your identity and energy

Introduction: The Antidote Hiding in Plain Sight

We’ve been taught that stress is the enemy—something to be managed, medicated, or mindfully breathed away during expensive yoga retreats. We buy journals with inspirational quotes, download meditation apps, and promise ourselves we’ll finally learn to say no. Yet stress persists, shape-shifting into new forms, always one step ahead of our coping strategies.

But what if we’ve been approaching this backwards? What if the most powerful stress-reduction tool isn’t about managing symptoms but about addressing the fundamental question underneath all that anxiety: What am I actually doing here?

When you don’t know your life purpose, every decision carries equal weight. Should you take that job? Attend that event? Answer that message? Without a guiding principle, your nervous system treats each choice as potentially life-altering, flooding your body with stress hormones designed for actual emergencies, not LinkedIn connection requests.

Knowing your life purpose doesn’t magically eliminate challenges. What it does—and this is rather marvellous—is give you a measuring stick. Suddenly, some stresses reveal themselves as irrelevant noise, whilst others transform into meaningful obstacles worth navigating. You’re not less busy; you’re busy with intention. And that distinction? That changes everything.

Sam’s Shrinking Story

Sam Addison stood in her kitchen at 6:47 on a Tuesday morning, surrounded by evidence of a life spiralling brilliantly out of control. Three different breakfast cereals lay open on the counter—she’d been too frazzled to choose one, so she’d sampled all three. The bitter dregs of yesterday’s coffee sat congealing in a mug beside the sink, releasing that particular smell of defeat that only abandoned caffeine can muster. Her phone buzzed with its seventeenth notification of the morning, each one a tiny electric shock to her already jangling nerves.

She’d been promoted six months earlier—senior marketing director, corner office, salary that finally matched her student loan payments—and she’d never been more miserable. Or more stressed. Her doctor had used the phrase “chronic stress response” during her last visit, which sounded both serious and vaguely science-fiction, like something that might require medication with seventeen syllables.

The panic attacks had started three weeks ago. The first one ambushed her in Waitrose, of all places, standing in the organic tomato section. Her heart had suddenly decided to audition for a thrash metal band whilst her lungs forgot their primary function. A kind woman with a Yorkshire accent had helped her to a bench, pressing a cold bottle of water into her trembling hands. “Been there, love,” the woman had said. “Feels like dying, but you’re not. Promise.”

Now, staring at her three-cereal chaos, Sam felt the familiar tightness beginning in her chest. She pressed her palm against her sternum, feeling her heart’s frantic morse code. Not again, she thought. Please, not again.

Her phone rang—her mother. Sam almost didn’t answer, but old guilt won out.

“Darling, I’ve been thinking,” her mother began without preamble. “Remember when you were eight and you made that ‘feelings club’ in the garden shed? You’d invite all the neighbourhood children to sit in a circle and everyone would share something that had made them happy or sad that week. You kept it going for two years.”

Sam did remember, actually. The musty smell of that shed, the mismatched cushions she’d collected, the way Tommy Fletcher had cried when his hamster died and everyone had sat in respectful silence, holding space for his grief. She’d felt—what was the word? Important. No, not important. Purposeful. Like she was doing something that mattered.

“Why are you bringing this up?” Sam asked, her voice sharper than intended.

“Because you sounded dead in your voice last week, darling. I haven’t heard you sound alive since you started that job.”

After they rang off, Sam stood very still. Around her, the kitchen hummed with modern life—the fridge’s subtle drone, the dishwasher’s rhythmic swish, the central heating clicking on. But inside her head, something had gone suddenly, beautifully quiet.

She thought about her job: endless PowerPoint presentations to people who’d already decided what they wanted, budget meetings that stretched like taffy, the peculiar corporate theatre of pretending everyone’s ideas had equal merit when they clearly didn’t. She earned well. She had status. She could afford decent wine and wasn’t panicking about her pension.

But when was the last time she’d felt purposeful?

That evening, instead of her usual stress ritual (wine, Netflix, the hollow feeling of time passing), Sam did something different. She grabbed a notebook—an old one from university with coffee stains on the cover—and wrote at the top: What makes me feel purposeful?

The answers came slowly at first, then faster: Creating spaces where people feel safe to be vulnerable. Facilitating conversations that matter. Helping people find their own voices. Listening—really listening—to what’s underneath the words.

She sat back, staring at her own handwriting. These weren’t things she was doing at work. These were things she used to do. Things she’d abandoned in her sprint toward supposed success.

Over the following weeks, Sam started small. She couldn’t quit her job (mortgage, reality, etc.), but she could adjust her trajectory. She volunteered to facilitate the company’s mental health support group—something everyone else avoided because it wasn’t “career-enhancing.” She started hosting monthly storytelling circles in her flat, inviting friends and friends-of-friends to share meaningful experiences over soup and bread.

The panic attacks didn’t vanish overnight. But something shifted. When work stress hit—and it still hit—she had a framework for understanding it. This presentation that had her up at midnight? Not aligned with her purpose, therefore deserving of less emotional energy. That difficult conversation with her team member who was struggling? Absolutely aligned with her purpose, therefore worth the discomfort.

Six months later, at one of my storytelling circles (she’d found us through a friend who’d walked the Camino), Sam shared how knowing her life purpose hadn’t made her less busy. “I’m actually doing more,” she said, laughing. “But I’m stressed about different things now. Better things. Things that feel like they’re worth the anxiety.”

The room hummed with recognition. That’s the thing about purpose—it doesn’t eliminate stress. It recontextualises it. And in that recontextualisation, something remarkable happens: stress stops being the enemy and becomes, occasionally, a compass pointing toward what matters most.

The Science and Soul of Purpose-Driven Calm

Let’s explore why Sam’s experience isn’t unique. When you understand your life purpose, your brain does something rather clever: it begins to categorise stressors differently. Neuroscience research shows that our prefrontal cortex—the brain’s executive function centre—becomes more active when we engage in purpose-driven activities, even stressful ones. This increased activation helps regulate the amygdala, your brain’s alarm system.

In practical terms? When you’re stressed about something aligned with your purpose, your body still releases cortisol and adrenaline, but your brain interprets these chemicals differently. Instead of signalling danger, they signal challenge. This is called eustress—positive stress that energises rather than depletes.

Without a clear life purpose, every stressor triggers the same alarm bells. Your nervous system can’t distinguish between a meaningful deadline and a meaningless one, between a conflict worth having and one that’s simply draining. You’re like a smoke detector going off for both house fires and burnt toast—exhausting for everyone involved, especially you.

The Decision Fatigue Factor

Modern life presents us with approximately 35,000 decisions daily, according to some estimates. Most are trivial (which socks, which route to work, whether to respond to that text now or later), but they all consume cognitive energy. This is why successful people often wear the same outfit daily—they’re not fashion-challenged; they’re conserving decision-making capacity.

Life purpose acts as a decision-making algorithm. When you know your “why,” countless decisions become automatic. Should you take that committee position? Does it align with your purpose? No? Decision made, energy conserved, stress averted.

The Resilience Revolution

Perhaps most importantly, life purpose builds resilience—not the grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it variety, but genuine psychological flexibility. When your identity is anchored in purpose rather than outcomes, setbacks become less existentially threatening.

Lost your job? Devastating, yes—but if your purpose is “creating spaces for authentic connection,” that purpose survives the job loss. It might even flourish in unexpected ways. This isn’t toxic positivity; it’s the recognition that you are not your circumstances, and your purpose transcends your current situation.

Studies show that people with a strong sense of purpose recover from stress more quickly, experience fewer stress-related health problems, and report higher life satisfaction even during challenging periods. They’re not experiencing less stress; they’re experiencing less meaningless stress.

Purpose as Permission

Here’s something rarely discussed: knowing your life purpose gives you permission to disappoint people. Revolutionary, isn’t it? When you’re clear about your purpose, you can say no to good opportunities because they’re not the right opportunities. You can let people down (kindly, compassionately) because you’re saying yes to something more aligned with your deeper calling.

This is enormously stress-relieving. Much of our anxiety stems from trying to be all things to all people, from the exhausting performance of meeting everyone’s expectations. Purpose gives you a legitimate reason to disappoint people—not from selfishness, but from self-knowledge. There’s a freedom in that which is almost giddying.

Further Reading: Three Unconventional Takes

1. The Crossroads of Should and Must by Elle Luna

This isn’t your typical purpose-finding manual. Luna, an artist and designer, explores the tension between “should” (what others expect) and “must” (what your soul requires). It’s beautifully illustrated, deeply personal, and refreshingly free of corporate jargon. I chose this because it acknowledges that discovering your purpose often means disappointing people who preferred your old, more convenient self. It’s visual, visceral, and won’t leave you feeling like you need to start a non-profit to matter.

2. Let Your Life Speak by Parker J. Palmer

Palmer, a Quaker educator, suggests that purpose isn’t something you choose or create—it’s something you uncover by paying attention to your life. He writes about his own depression and vocational crises with such honesty that you feel less alone in your confusion. This book champions the idea that your purpose might be small, local, and decidedly unglamorous—and that’s not only acceptable, it’s sacred. I love this one because it’s the antithesis of hustle culture’s “find your passion and monetise it” nonsense.

3. The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

This might seem an odd choice for a book about purpose and stress, but hear me out. Pressfield writes about Resistance—that force that keeps us from our real work. His thesis? The things we’re most afraid to do are often most aligned with our purpose. Understanding this transforms stress from “something’s wrong” to “I’m close to something meaningful.” It’s fierce, occasionally profane, and will kick you out of your comfort zone in the best possible way.

A Word from St James’ Way

“I arrived at Margaretha’s Camino retreat believing my purpose needed to be something impressive—running a charity, perhaps, or writing a life-changing book. The stress of not knowing my ‘big purpose’ was eating me alive. Through the walking, the storytelling circles, and Margaretha’s gentle questions, I discovered my purpose was much simpler: I’m here to bear witness. To really see people and let them know they’ve been seen. That’s it. That’s enough. I still work in accounts, still do my spreadsheets, but now I approach it all differently. I see the person behind the numbers. I notice when someone’s struggling. My stress hasn’t disappeared, but it’s no longer existential—it’s just… stress. Manageable. Human. And sometimes, when I’m really living my purpose, it transforms into something that almost feels like joy.” — Emma T., First-Time Camino Walker, March 2024

Five Razor-Sharp FAQs about How to figure out your Purpose in Life

Q: What if I discover my life purpose but can’t afford to pursue it full-time?

A: Purpose isn’t a career requirement; it’s a lens through which you view your life. You can be a purpose-driven accountant, teacher, or parent. The question isn’t “Can I make money doing my purpose?” but “How can I infuse my current life with my purpose?” Sam didn’t quit her job; she adjusted how she showed up in it and created space for purpose outside it. Start where you are, with what you have.

Q: Does everyone have a singular life purpose, or can it change?

A: Thank goodness it can change—imagine being locked into your eight-year-old self’s purpose forever. (Mine was “eat sweets and own a pony,” which would have been limiting.) Your purpose often has a core theme that remains consistent whilst its expression evolves. Someone whose purpose is “creating beauty” might be a gardener in their twenties, a designer in their forties, and a hospice volunteer bringing flowers to patients in their seventies. Same purpose, different manifestations.

Q: I’ve tried journaling and reflecting, but I still feel unclear about my purpose. What now?

A: Stop thinking and start noticing. Purpose often reveals itself through action, not contemplation. Pay attention to when you feel most alive, when time disappears, when you’re simultaneously challenged and fulfilled. Notice what makes you righteously angry—injustice often points toward purpose. Try new things. Take the creative writing class, volunteer at the food bank, join the choir. Purpose is discovered, not decided.

Q: Can knowing my purpose actually increase stress if I’m not living it?

A: Temporarily, yes—there’s often a gap between discovering your purpose and fully embodying it. This gap can feel frustrating. But this is eustress, not distress. It’s the productive tension of growth, like the burn of muscles getting stronger. The alternative—remaining unconscious about your purpose whilst drowning in meaningless stress—is far worse. At least now you know what you’re working toward.

Q: What if my life purpose feels embarrassingly simple or small?

A: Brilliant. The world has quite enough people chasing grandiose purposes they don’t actually care about. Your purpose doesn’t need to impress anyone. If your purpose is “making people laugh during difficult times,” that’s extraordinary—ask anyone who’s been comforted by humour in their darkest moment. If it’s “creating order from chaos,” every organised person I know is a bloody hero. Simple doesn’t mean insignificant; it means clear. And clarity is what reduces stress.

Conclusion: The Path Forward Is Personal

Here’s what I’ve learned from years of facilitating storytelling circles and walking alongside people on their Camino journeys: your life purpose is already whispering to you. You’ve been hearing it in those moments when you feel most yourself, most alive, most connected to something larger than your to-do list.

Knowing your life purpose doesn’t eliminate stress because you’re human, and being human means encountering friction between what is and what could be. But it transforms that stress from a chaotic whirlwind into a focused wind at your back, pushing you toward what matters most.

Your purpose doesn’t need to be world-changing. It needs to be true. It doesn’t need to impress others. It needs to resonate with you. And it doesn’t need to eliminate all stress—it just needs to help you distinguish between the stress that’s draining your life force and the stress that’s shaping you into who you’re meant to become.

The question isn’t whether you’ll experience stress. The question is whether that stress will have meaning. And that answer begins with knowing why you’re here.

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Walk Your Purpose Into Being: A Camino Invitation

There’s something about walking that bypasses the mind’s defences and speaks directly to the soul. Perhaps it’s the rhythm—left, right, breath, step—that quiets our internal chatter enough to hear that quieter voice underneath. Or maybe it’s the simplicity: when your immediate concern is putting one foot in front of the other, the pretentious barriers between you and your truth start crumbling.

My Camino de Santiago Crossroads Retreat in the sun-drenched hills of south-west France is designed for exactly this unravelling and rediscovering. We walk sections of this ancient pilgrimage route—not the full 800 kilometres (let’s be reasonable), but enough that your body remembers how to move with intention, enough that the landscape works its particular magic on your worried heart.

Between the walking, we gather for storytelling circles. These aren’t performative sharing sessions where everyone’s trying to sound profound. They’re authentic, often funny, occasionally tear-filled conversations where people discover they’re not alone in their confusion, their stress, their secret hope that there’s more to life than getting through each day.

We practise mindfulness and meditation—not the Instagram-aesthetic variety with perfect posture and designer cushions, but the real, sometimes fidgety practice of paying attention to what’s actually happening in this moment. And through guided exercises specifically designed for stress management, we explore that tender territory between who you’ve been told to be and who you actually are.

The French countryside won’t intimidate you. The ancient stones of the Camino path don’t care about your job title or your bank balance. And the other walkers? They’re too busy with their own unravelling to judge yours. This creates a rare space: permission to stop performing and start discovering.

Bring your questions, your stress, your confusion about what you’re meant to be doing with this one precious life. You’ll walk, share stories, sit in companionable silence, watching the sun set over hills that have witnessed countless other seekers. And somewhere between the walking and the talking and the quiet, you might just discover that your purpose has been hiding in plain sight, ready to transform your stress into something that feels remarkably like coming home.

No time to escape to the southwest of France?

I have created two controversial and counterintuitive online courses:

Spoiler alert: If you watch this month’s recommended TED talk, you’ll get an idea of where I’m going with this.