searching for purpose in stillness: one month without doing
It's cloudy in Chiang Mai — which, ironically, makes for a refreshing day — and I'm sitting in a café, staring at a plate of scrambled eggs, quietly panicking about what to do with my life. I've just read Jessica Livingston's commencement speech, and I can't help but feel that I am the fresh graduate she's addressing her words to. Except I'm not.
My graduation was 10 years ago, and I've long forgotten to worry about my career. In fact, I never had to worry about it. Until now, my life drifted like a knife through melting butter — so smooth, I barely noticed it. I was following a script my environment had rigidly curated for me. School - university - a corporate job. The path was defined, and I didn't need to think about it as long as I “trusted the process”. But the trust is over now.
I took the first leap of faith back in 2022, when I emailed a resignation notice to my employer. A long-overdue decision. It wasn't intentional — I just knew I couldn't keep doing it. Like a splinter stuck under my nail, it kept me from thinking straight until I took it out. By now, I'd written about it so many times, people must be thinking it's my biggest achievement in life. But something else happened recently.
Two weeks ago, I took another leap of faith when I flew out of Canada with two carry-on backpacks, leaving nothing behind but my friends and the warm memories we shared. This time, I wasn't running away — I was running toward. Toward more options. Toward a fresh perspective on life, with the new sense of comfort and purpose.
about having a purpose — or what's wrong with 80,000 hours
As I settled in Chiang Mai, I tried to come up with a plan for my career. I browsed every corner of 80000hours.org, looking to get involved in one of their pressing problems. It didn't help. Spaces that interest me even slightly aren't anywhere on their agenda, so I felt my self-esteem shift. If AI safety doesn't touch the inner strings of my soul, even the most remote ones, what's wrong with me? If factory farming — which shouldn't exist — or a potential nuclear war don't motivate me to drop everything and change the world, what is even my purpose? Am I not concerned with humanity? Again, what's wrong with me?
80000hours unintentionally set a moral bias: working on a problem from their list is good, and working on a different problem is a lower priority — or, in their words, not pressing — and therefore bad. Modern philosophy has a focus on a greater good (save a hundred people even if it means taking an innocent life) compared to the philosophy of ancient Greeks who asked what kind of a person we should each aim to become. And even though the team behind 80000hours advises against doing any wrong for the greater good, I still can't help but feel guilty for not aligning my moral compass with their north.
the plan
I decided to take a month off and do nothing. Well, not 'nothing' nothing. I'm coming back to my little blog (the one you are reading) and starting to write more. I always found peace in writing. It calms my mind and shapes unclustered thoughts into fruitful ideas. I rarely know I have a decent idea until I let the words out. Other times, I may only have a seed for a potential great idea, but putting it in writing helps it sprout.
By doing nothing, I aim to step away from most of the coding. I want to try and not come up with any ideas for the next month. The cool shiny projects can wait. The whole world can wait. Out of boredom, my brain looks for things to do, and taming it has become an intentional act. For the next 30 days, I want to channel my energy into writing. Have an urge to code something up? Write about the urge. Came up with the greatest idea in the world? Write it down instead of jumping straight into implementing it.
The next month is not a challenge to write — I'm sick of the challenges. 30-day-this and 30-day-that. If I wanted to give myself a real challenge, I would try not to use “I” in my posts. Everything else is child's play. Instead, I see the next month as an attempt at meditation — though not the sitting kind — while journaling the experience. Will it help me find the purpose? Will it give me a glimpse of where I should focus my energy next? One month isn't enough to answer one of life's biggest questions. But it may be enough to start shaping an idea.
It's a beginning. And only time will tell what kind of a beginning it is.