We say people have lost their sense of purpose.
That may be true.
It may also be that their attention has been scattered so thoroughly that meaning can no longer get a word in.
Every platform wants a piece of us and every alert arrives wearing urgency. Every outrage presents itself as the one thing we cannot possibly ignore.
By lunchtime, our attention has been sliced into confetti.
Then we are expected to sit quietly and discern what matters.
A little ambitious, really.
Meaning needs attention. Not endless analysis or perfect clarity. Attention.
It appears when we notice the work that leaves us tired but inwardly intact, gathers around the ache that keeps returning, and moves through the beauty we cannot stop seeing, even when the world insists it is impractical.
Purpose does not always arrive as revelation.
Sometimes it begins as irritation.
Something keeps tugging at us. This is not good enough or could be more humane. Someone needs to speak. Someone needs to stay.
We often mistake that restlessness for dissatisfaction when it may be direction tapping on the window.
The world has become very skilled at keeping us too distracted to hear it.
That is convenient for systems built on consumption. A person who knows what matters is much harder to keep endlessly hungry.
Perhaps reclaiming purpose begins with reclaiming attention from everything that profits from our confusion.
Not by disappearing from life, but by returning to it more fully.
The cup in our hands, the person in front of us, or the work that feels alive before it becomes useful.
Meaning is rarely hiding in some distant future, waiting for us to become more impressive.
It is usually much closer than that quietly asking what we are willing to notice.