Find Your Purpose: Look Back to Your Childhood Interests
The Echoes of Early Interests
People often ask how to find their purpose. The answer, surprisingly, isn’t about *finding* it at all, but about building it. And the materials for that construction are often closer than we sense – tucked away in the memories of childhood. Most of us already carry clues about what truly engages us, what quietly pulls us toward meaning. These are what I call purpose anchors: the interests, curiosities, and small sparks that once ignited our imaginations.
The challenge isn’t creating purpose from a void. It’s remembering what those anchors are. Many of us try a “spaghetti method” – throwing a lot of activities at the wall to see what sticks, experimenting and noticing what energizes us. But there’s another, perhaps simpler, path: looking backward, specifically to childhood. Childhood often represents a time of effortless purpose, before societal pressures dictate career paths or daily obligations. Before the weight of a résumé, we were largely guided by curiosity.
Psychologists describe this state as “flow” – a complete absorption in an activity where time seems to disappear and goals fade into the background. It’s less about achieving something and more about enjoying the act of doing it. This is what I call little-p purpose, a process rather than a destination. But as we age, this natural sense of purpose can be overshadowed by what’s often termed “big-P Purpose” – the pressure to identify one grand, world-changing mission. This expectation can be paralyzing, leading us to believe we lack purpose if One can’t immediately define that singular, monumental goal.
Start With the Spaces That Held You
If you’re feeling disconnected from purpose, a simple thought experiment can be revealing. Close your eyes and vividly recall your childhood bedroom. Picture the walls, the floor, the desk, the clutter. Then ask yourself: What posters adorned the walls? What drawings or objects covered the desk? What trophies, ribbons, or collections sat on the dresser? These weren’t random decorations; they were signals of what mattered to you before external influences shaped your priorities.
Often, we don’t outgrow childhood passions, we simply become too busy to pursue them. Many adults still harbor a fondness for horses, pickup football, or skateboarding, but rarely grant themselves permission to indulge. The key is recognizing these lingering interests as potential anchors, not as frivolous distractions.
A Collector’s Instinct
For me, the answer lies in baseball cards. Growing up, our family den served as the TV room. On summer afternoons, I’d sit there watching the Chicago Cubs while opening pack after pack of cards, driven by the simple goal of completing the full set for that season. I spent hours sorting players, studying statistics, and carefully sliding each card into its protective sleeve. To others, it might have seemed tedious, but to me, it was endlessly engaging. Those cards weren’t just cardboard; they were stories, puzzles, and tiny pieces of history.
Life, inevitably, accelerated. School became more demanding, college arrived, and eventually, medical training consumed most of my time, and attention. My baseball card collection ended up boxed in a closet. I didn’t stop loving baseball, I simply stopped making room for it. Even now, seeing articles about vintage cards or clips of old World Series games on social media sparks a familiar feeling. Apparently, I may occasionally struggle to identify my sense of purpose—but the Facebook algorithm has already figured it out.
From Anchor to Action
Identifying a purpose anchor is just the first step. The next is figuring out how to integrate it into your current life. This doesn’t require a dramatic overhaul. Perhaps it means attending a few baseball games each summer, buying a pack of cards for nostalgic enjoyment, or even exploring buying and selling cards online. The specific path is less important than the willingness to re-engage with the interest. Purpose rarely arrives fully formed; it grows slowly as we dedicate more time to activities that naturally capture our attention.
We often assume purpose must be grand or life-defining, something that changes the world or shapes our identity for decades. But it doesn’t need to carry that weight. Sometimes, it’s as simple as sketching again after years away from art, joining a recreational soccer league, or volunteering at an animal shelter given that animals fascinated you as a child. These activities don’t need to be permanent, profitable, or impressive. Their primary requirement is that they help you reconnect with flow, that feeling of being completely absorbed in the moment.
The Wisdom of Unburdened Curiosity
Childhood holds a quiet wisdom. Children pursue what fascinates them without worrying about practicality or productivity. They follow curiosity wherever it leads. As adults, we spend years learning how to succeed, provide, and excel. These skills are valuable, and many improve with age. But when it comes to joy and purpose, we may have been surprisingly adept at it from the start. As Christina Jones notes on LinkedIn, purpose is the anchor that unites and directs all other efforts, in business and in life.
Rediscovering meaning isn’t always about inventing something latest. It’s often about remembering what once made you lose track of time. It’s about revisiting the spaces – both physical and mental – that held your early passions, and allowing yourself, once again, to be captivated by the simple joy of doing.
The process of identifying and nurturing these anchors can be a powerful antidote to the pressure of finding a singular, all-encompassing purpose. It’s a reminder that meaning isn’t a destination, but a continuous journey of exploration and engagement. As Royal Coaching Colorado points out, purpose gives meaning to the everyday, helping individuals feel secure and connected to a bigger mission.