As a creative coach who often works with people in advertising, design and branding, I know that a hot topic for the last few years has been the question of purpose. It all began with a widely disseminated TED talk by Simon Sinek in which he observed that companies often talk about what they do and how they do it, but they rarely talk about why.

Or at least they rarely did before his talk went viral. Since then we’ve had a decade or more of purpose driven marketing, with some examples being rather less credible than others. I don’t know about you, but when I’m choosing a biscuit to accompany my morning coffee I’m not too concerned with whether the company who makes them is hoping to save the world or not.

We seem to be coming out the other side now, where brands who have a genuine ‘why’ still talk about it, while others have quietly moved on. But throughout all the hullabaloo about brand purpose, people rarely seemed to apply the same thinking to themselves. I’m guessing that even though you’re often asked what you do, only very rarely does anyone take the time to ask you why you do it. And even if they did, would you be able to answer them?

The question of personal purpose, and how that is enriched or diminished by one’s day to day life, has an enormous bearing on how content we are, how fulfilled we feel, our mental well-being and our capacity to be good friends, partners and parents. And yet it’s a question that is very easily obscured by the chaos and busyness of our 21st century lives. It’s one of those things that deep down we feel we should acknowledge but then it feels too big and significant and uncomfortable, so we cue up another episode on Netflix, reach for another glass of wine or allow ourselves to get sucked into yet another Zoom call.

The question of personal purpose, and how that is enriched or diminished by one’s day to day life, has an enormous bearing on how content we are

Part of the problem, I think, stems from the fact that when we start working we’re just too young and inexperienced to really know who we are and what our purpose might be. For most people in their late teens the choice of their first proper job – or the university degree that might steer them towards a career – isn’t driven by a profound sense of calling; it’s whatever course you can get on or whatever gig you can land and purpose doesn’t remotely come into it.

The unfortunate thing is that this sets you on a path. After a while you get promoted. You start to earn a little more. You get a bigger place. Your outgoings increase. You get a partner. A family. And – boom – before you know it, you’re in your late 30s or 40s with a career you’re not sure you ever really wanted and a heavy disquiet coiled in the pit of your belly.

I’m lucky that I’ve arrived at a point in my life where how I spend my working days – helping people to feel more confident creatively and have better ideas – is in harmony with one of my most fundamental beliefs – that creativity is good and the world needs more of it. But getting to this point wasn’t the fulfilment of some genius masterplan. On the contrary, it was a consequence of things going spectacularly awry.

Arriving at meaningful answers may take some time, as it probably should. If you’re struggling, try talking your responses through with a friend or partner

In my late 20s I founded a creative agency because I loved coming up with ideas and didn’t like working for anyone else. I also rather fancied myself as a businessman. Turns out my capacity for creativity outweighed my entrepreneurship by a significant margin.

After a few early years of awards, high profile projects and extravagant lunches, we secured investment to expand and, with a sale in sight, the whole thing imploded. My young family and I lost our home and we ended up living with my in-laws. It was only by having to rebuild from nothing that I was able to construct a life that is much truer to who I actually am.

Now if you’re reading this and thinking, yes, I feel like my work and who I am are not aligned, but I really don’t fancy losing everything and moving in with my in-laws, it’s OK. There is another way.

A really good place to begin is with the Japanese concept of ‘ikigai’. There’s no direct translation of ikigai into English, but it roughly means ‘the happiness of always being busy’. The word is based on two pairs of four characters meaning ‘life’ and ‘to be worthwhile’. It’s a way of aligning what you love, what you’re good at and what you feel the world needs with a profession that you can be paid for.

A really good place to begin is with the Japanese concept of ‘ikigai’. It roughly means ‘the happiness of always being busy’

If you’re struggling with a sense of purpose at the moment, if you feel like you’re working a job that has no meaningful connection with who you are as a human being, then have a go at answering these four questions. And if each question has multiple answers, all the better.

What do you love doing?

What are you really good at?

What impact would you like your work to have on the world?

What job or profession is consistent with the above?

Arriving at meaningful answers may take some time, as it probably should. If you’re struggling, try talking your responses through with a friend or partner; they may be able to bring a clarity to your situation that is hard to find on your own. And even if you can’t initially find a solution to the fourth question, your first three answers will help you know what kinds of opportunities to look out for.

I should point out too that although finding a job that fulfils your ikigai is the end game here, that doesn’t have to happen overnight. It could be that having gone through this process you take a little time outside the day job to devote an hour or two to doing something more meaningful.

I should point out too that although finding a job that fulfils your ikigai is the end game here, that doesn’t have to happen overnight

I remember listening to the poet Murray Lachlan Young talk on the radio about how most poets work two jobs: poetry plus a day job to make ends meet. The trick, he said, is to regard the day job, even though it’s the one that pays the rent and takes up the most time, as your B job and writing as your A job. It’s a subtle reframing but one that can make a big difference to how you feel about how you spend your time.

The era of every brand needing a purpose has passed. And for my money, that’s a good thing. So maybe we can move on now and address the far more fundamental question of personal purpose and why we do what we do with our working lives. As Friedrich Nietzsche once said, ‘he who has a why to live can bear almost any how’.

Richard Holman is a creative coach, and this article first appeared on his website, richardholman.com; Top image: Shutterstock