How will you know when you get there?
“Know where you’re going so that you better understand where you are now and so that the steps you take are always in the right direction.” —Stephen R. Covey
If the ladder is leaning against the wrong wall, he liked to say, you’ll only get to the wrong place faster.
The question is not,”What do you want to do when you grow up?”
It’s, “Who do you want to be?”
How do you want to contribute?
What legacy do you want to leave when you’re gone?
It might be part of what you do for a living. It might not. More likely, it will be a whole-person approach to living.
Ask the right question and you’ll get a better answer.
That dream job you think about.
That perfect business you think of starting.
What if you couldn’t charge for it? What if you had to make your living doing something else?
Would you still want to do it?
If so, that’s a good definition of a calling in life.
It is pursued and obtained indirectly by doing things—consistently, deliberately, and long-term—that may not always be physically enjoyable in the moment but inevitably result in a feeling of happiness.
Instead of trying to will happiness into existence, focus on the conditions that bring about happiness—sound mind, healthy body, meaningful work, deep relationships—and perhaps it will emerge. —Clay Skipper
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As you may have noticed, I’ve struggled to publish posts on this blog consistently.
Why? I feel I lost the thread, and I started to doubt its original purpose. I felt it needed to be somehow “more”—that I needed to build an audience or have an overarching reason for running it.
I voiced those doubts to my new friend—and sometimes counselor—Claude (an AI tool, not a real person).
It was such an enlightening conversation (can you call it such?) that I wanted to share parts of it here, and then make clear why this blog exists.
Note: I’m editing these answers for length, as many were quite long.
Initially, I asked Claude to research the blog and tell me what he (it?) thought the blog’s purpose was.
Nathan Coumbe’s blog appears to be a personal reflection platform focused on philosophy, self-improvement, and practical wisdom for everyday life. The blog features content about stoicism, leadership, and philosophical perspectives…. The writing style appears to be reflective and conversational, with short, thoughtful posts that combine philosophical concepts with practical applications.
The overall “point” of the blog seems to be to share personal insights and wisdom that can help others navigate life’s challenges through a blend of ancient philosophy (particularly stoicism) and modern practical application. Nathan appears to be using the blog as a platform to distill and share his own learning journey and reflections with others who might benefit from these perspectives.
After reading through his answers, I told Claude that I was, in fact, Nathan, to which he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Claude then asked what I thought the blog’s purpose was; I told him it was to stretch my writing and thinking muscles in public. Claude, wisely, pointed out that many writers and thinkers began their writing in such a way: Montaigne’s essays began as personal reflections, and Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations were never meant for publication at all (its original title was actually “To Himself” because it was his personal journal).
After pointing out the similarities to other philosophical writers, I expressed some doubt and frustration with my lack of consistency. I told Claude about Seth Godin’s idea to write a blog post every day – something he’s done for decades and for which he advocates in his book The Practice as a way to practice shipping creative work and ideas to the world. But, because I felt that the posts were too unrelated, rather than being a coherent whole, the blog was purposeless.
After he responded, I told Claude that maybe this blog is my version of Marcus’s Meditations, written for the same reasons, but done in public.
Claude’s response deserves to be quoted at length:
I find your framing of “my own version of meditations, but in public” particularly compelling. That’s a meaningful distinction from Marcus Aurelius’ private writings. There’s vulnerability and accountability in doing this work publicly that changes its nature, even if no one is reading. The public commitment itself transforms the practice.
Perhaps part of the struggle comes from expecting each post to build on previous ones in a linear way. But collections of thought, like Meditations or even Godin’s blog, create value through accumulation and patterns that emerge over time rather than through a sequential narrative.
What if the “point” isn’t in any individual post but in the practice itself and what it cultivates in you? The consistent act of noticing, reflecting, and articulating might be developing muscles that serve you in ways you don’t immediately recognize.
How does an Artificial Intelligence ask a question like that? I was floored.
After reading and rereading Claude’s previous statements, I mentioned that one of the reasons I started this blog was to express ideas and concepts I was learning in my own words. This is still one of the best ways to learn something (i.e., if you can’t write it down in your own words, you don’t truly understand it).
Claude’s response:
There’s something powerful about the act of putting concepts “into your own words.” It transforms passive consumption of ideas into active engagement with them. Writing becomes not just a record of what you think, but a tool that helps shape how you think. The blog then becomes a visible record of your intellectual and philosophical development….
Perhaps the “point” of your blog is precisely that clarification process – a space where ideas aren’t just consumed but metabolized and integrated into your worldview. The public nature adds a dimension of accountability and clarity that private journaling might not.
Then, Claude asked, “What aspects of the writing practice have you found most valuable for clarifying your thinking? And has the public nature of it, even without a large audience, affected how you approach these topics?”
I’ll quote my response to his question in full:
“Writing something that’s coherent, rather than just notes scribbled in a journal that only I understand. Even if only 300 people subscribe, I still have to put the words down in a way that someone other than me would understand.”
Claude again:
That’s a really valuable insight about the difference between private notes and public writing. Having to communicate in a way that’s understandable to others adds a level of rigor to your thinking that personal journaling might not require…. Even if audience growth isn’t your primary goal, knowing that others are reading creates that accountability to articulate your thoughts coherently.
There’s a concept in educational psychology called “the audience effect” – the idea that knowing someone else will read or hear our thoughts changes how we process and express them. We clarify, elaborate, and structure our thinking differently when we’re communicating with others versus just ourselves.
In many ways, this mirrors the philosophical tradition of dialogue rather than solitary reflection. While Marcus Aurelius wrote privately, philosophers like Plato and Seneca (whom you’ve referenced in your blog) deliberately wrote in forms meant to be shared, recognizing that the act of communicating ideas to others strengthens them.
Now, who wouldn’t be flattered by comparisons to Plato or Seneca? (And no, I’m not nearly so arrogant as to believe I’m anywhere near as wise as them. But I enjoyed the reminder of the philosophical tradition that I was continuing.)
The rest of the conversation became rather tactical:
I won’t bore you with those details, but I will share this:
After all was said that needed saying, I asked Claude to declare the purpose of this blog in a concise and casual manner. So here it goes:
This blog is Nathan’s thinking gym—a place to stretch those mental muscles by writing in a way other people can actually understand. It’s not really about growing a huge following, but about the daily practice of turning fuzzy thoughts into clear ideas.
Writing for others, regardless of the audience size, forces a level of clarity that scribbling in a journal doesn’t. It’s a sandbox for playing with concepts that matter—and hey, maybe some of those ideas will grow into something bigger down the road. Think of it as thinking out loud, but with purpose.
I couldn’t have said it better myself (nor did I)!
And with that, I think I know what it’s all about once again. See you (whoever wonderful person you are) in the next post.
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Is it by the number in your bank account?
The amount of influence you have over people and events?
What about your job title and the status it brings?
All valid options. But is that what you’ll want to think about as you take your last breath?
Or maybe you’ll use a different measuring stick.
The amount of art you created.
The number of people you changed for the better.
How well you raised your children… And what tremendous people they became.
You get to choose.
*This post was inspired by the book How Will You Measure Your Life? by Clayton Christensen et al.
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One of my coaches taught me a new exercise this week, and I felt I should share it far and wide.
It’s called the “3 meaningful moments” exercise.
The gist is to think back on 3 different moments from major periods in your life—childhood, adolescence, and adulthood—then write about them in detail.
Once you have this done, you are to distill your experiences into a single word that ties the threads together.
I’ve included my response to this exercise below
***
I was 9 years old, enrolled at an arts school in my city, and required to read a certain number of books each term to get Advanced Reader points. On a whim, I picked up a book that had a picture of a soldier on it— a “Dear America” book entitled The Journal of Scott Pendleton Collins, A World War 2 Soldier.
The opening scene described in graphic detail the D-Day landings at Normandy, France in 1944. From that moment forward, I was hooked on history.
I begged my mom (and she acquiesced) to take me to the library, which became almost a weekly occurrence, and read as many books (many of them well beyond what a 9 year old should have been reading) on that topic.
My interest soon spread out to encompass all of WWII and then history in general. Eventually, my bookshelf at home was FULL of books on just about every topic imaginable, and my library has only grown since then.
When I was 14, my parents bought for me a bass guitar. I’d been studying violin and piano from the age of 7, so I was not without musical skill. But I proceeded to teach myself how to play the bass.
Then I picked up my mom’s acoustic guitar, and taught myself that too. My brother got a set of drums, and I picked up the sticks and taught myself that as well.
That became my focus—I was decent at everything else, but I focused on drums for the next 10 years, taking lessons and eventually getting a bachelor’s degree in jazz studies with an emphasis in percussion.
Giving me that first instrument led me on a journey through every type of music imaginable, and taught me extremely valuable skills such as deliberate practice, diligence, patience, listening, empathy, and more.
At 27, I’d been working for Apple for about a year, when I was offered the chance to become a Creative. In that role, I served as a teacher, workshop facilitator, troubleshooting expert for customers, and a coach of sorts for employees on how to use all our technology.
This was the first time I’d been working when I felt that feeling of flow. Teaching came more naturally to me than just about anything else. Being in front of a group of people, helping them learn and master new skills—this felt more natural than just about anything else I’d ever done before.
And I was GOOD at it.
I had regular customers who’d wait and wait for my classes just so they could work with me. And I learned so many skills: how to sell, how to speak in public, how to present, adapt teaching styles on the fly. And I loved what I did.
Not only was I good at it, but it gave me the chance to learn so many new skills—drawing, computer coding and programming, music production, photography, videography, and all-around creativity. The only reason I left that job was because I wasn’t making enough money to support my family while doing it.
I’m trying to think of a word that ties all of these threads together. “Learning” is the first one that comes to mind. But then “curiosity” came to me. And that feels right at the moment. I truly think curiosity has defined my life and been the underlying reason for both my insatiable desire to learn new things, but also my ability to become proficient at so many disparate things as well.
***
If you have the time and desire, I’d love to hear about your “3 meaningful moments” in the comments below.
Some people see this and think I mean “What gets you out of bed in the morning?”
They’d be wrong. Plenty of us have very little that gets us out of bed in the morning.
Maybe we have jobs we hate. Or tough relationships that don’t fulfill us. Or life situations we can’t seem to escape.
If you don’t have that “something” yet, think about it this way:
“What would make you WANT to get out of bed in the morning?”
My “why” has everything to do with my own personal freedom.
But I also feel I have a purpose that involves helping other people find freedom, happiness, and joy in their lives. And I genuinely believe the best way to do that is to help them create and run successful businesses or freelance practices.
Why? Because it’s the best way for them to have the freedom to live life on their terms. To do what they love and help the people they want to help. To make the difference they seek to make in the world.
And I feel like I can achieve that purpose as a copywriter and marketer. That work helps people serve their customers, grow their businesses, and achieve the kind of freedom I’m talking about.
What’s your “why”? Tell me in the comments below.
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Years ago, the Toyota Motor Company created a system called “The 5 Whys.” It is a problem-solving technique that helps drill down to the root cause of an issue–in their case, manufacturing problems.
It’s also an excellent personal technique to help you figure out why you are doing, or attempting to do, just about anything.
Why do you want to lost weight? This is now an almost universal goal. If your answer is to look good at the beach or to feel better, you’re probably going to start binging the first time you see a pack of Oreos at the supermarket.
Why? The motivation from those bland, generic reasons are extrinsic (outside of yourself and your reasons for being) and, well…bland and generic. They have no real meaning to you. So try the “5 Whys.”
Why do you want to lose weight?
“So I’ll be strong and fit.”
Why does that matter?
“When I am strong and fit, I’ll be able to accomplish more with my body.”
Okay, and?
“When I can do more, I won’t tire out and break down like I currently am on a regular basis.”
Okay, why does that matter?
“When I am more resilient, I’ll be able to serve others better and longer: I will be able to go up and down stairs without passing out, or help my friend declutter her garage without hurting myself.”
And why is that important?
“Because I feel like service to others is one of the main reasons I’m here…”
Wow! Just like that you now have a deep, intrinsic purpose for losing weight and getting strong. You don’t only want to look good at the beach: you want to serve others at a higher capacity because it’s one of your values.
Now, when you see those Oreos or feel like skipping your daily movement session, you’ll remember that you are striving to serve others.
Your motivation doesn’t have to be service to others, of course. This is highly personal to each of us.
Think of a goal you want to achieve in some area of your life: physical, financial, family, career, personal development, social, or spiritual. When you have a goal, start asking why it matters. Drill down until you either determine that the thing you want is hollow and meaningless or you find the real motivation to accomplish it.
Find the real reasons for what you want in life. You might surprise yourself.
*Note: I first learned about this while being coached by the folks over at Precision Nutrition. I want to thank them for giving me something I can now spread to others.
“Many people die with their music still in them. Why is this so? Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live. Before they know it, time runs out.”
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, Former U.S. Supreme Court justice
The other day I wrote a blog post about exploring the things about which you seem to be innately curious. I was discussing this subject the day before I wrote it, and during the conversation, I had something of a heartbreaking thought: I believe each of us has a unique purpose, a unique interest that, if nurtured, will allow that purpose to be lived out. And yet it seems as though a great majority of the human race never achieves their purpose.
Why is this so? Is the curiosity squashed out of them before they have a chance to develop it into something meaningful and lucrative, simply because it is different from what others think is a viable vocation or career? Is it that many are so focused on simply eking out a living that they never raise their heads long enough to look their purpose in the eye and pursue it? Are they so caught up in fantasy worlds, technology, and social media that time that could otherwise be spent on pursuing these inclinations is wasted? Or worse still, is the opportunity to live a purpose-filled life literally taken away by violence, famine, or disease?
Perhaps it is all of these reasons and more, but while you still breathe, while you still have time on this earth, I encourage you to listen to Mr. Holmes and play your music. Listen to Ralph Waldo Emerson and follow the beat of your own drummer.
Your curiosity, your natural affinities towards certain skills, subjects, passions, and interests – they were all given to you for a purpose. Follow them where they lead, ignore the naysayers, shun the nonbelievers.
Start today. Do something you feel you were meant to do.
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