Somewhere in the middle of an ultra-hot Scottsdale afternoon, while I was knee-deep in desert sand and self-doubt, I accidentally stumbled upon my purpose. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t while sipping an overpriced margarita by a resort pool (though I wouldn’t blame anyone if that’s where their breakthrough happened). No, mine came on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday during a chance encounter that would plant the seed of what I was meant to do.
Let me set the stage for you.
The Desert, My Doubt, and a Flat Tire
At the time, I was working in tech marketing—think endless emails, tedious analytics dashboards, and enough blue light to sear a permanent grid onto your retinas. On paper, everything was going great. A solid career, a full pipeline of projects, and a 401(k] mature enough to make my mom throw me a victory brunch. But something about my day-to-day felt... dusty. Lifeless. Like the office air conditioning had leaked straight into my soul.
Cue The Flat Tire Incident.
I’d decided to vent my existential frustration by indulging in my classic "find clarity in the wilderness" routine—taking my overworked Jeep out for a scenic drive to recharge mentally. Naturally, fate decided this was the perfect moment for my rear tire to explode somewhere miles off the main road. With no cell reception and no AAA in sight, I geared up for a walk. Fifteen minutes into hoofing it back toward civilization, I met him: Bob.
Bob, the Guy Who Sold Me Cactus Jelly
Bob was one of those people who looks like he’s existed as part of the desert forever. Sun-etched skin, a straw hat that had seen at least six presidential administrations, and—this detail’s important—a weathered folding table covered in jars of homemade cactus jelly. I spotted him perched by his truck, waving down passing cars with what I can only describe as the enthusiasm of a human mirage.
Desperate for both shade and a distraction from my rotten luck, I wandered up and asked if I could borrow his phone—or at least sit tight while he called someone. Bob happily obliged but insisted I first try a sample of his jelly. (“It’s the best in Maricopa County, kid. No artificial junk; all heart and a little sugar.”) A couple of bites turned into a whole conversation about how Bob found his passion, sold everything he didn’t need, and poured his energy into something he truly loved: mastering the art of desert-inspired preserves.
I don’t know if it was the wild prickly pear sugar rush, the heatstroke setting in, or just sheer coincidence, but Bob absolutely floored me. Here was this guy, content and confident in his purpose, unapologetically eccentric, and living proof that a little reinvention can go a very long way. And while I didn’t immediately quit tech marketing to launch a jelly empire (though, let’s be real, that sounds tempting), something about Bob’s story sparking my eventual pivot as a writer.
The Aha Moment (and How You Can Have Yours Too)
After my rescue (thanks, Bob and his surprisingly functional satellite phone), I couldn’t shake the feeling that I'd witnessed something bigger than a random encounter over fruit preserves. Bob wasn’t just selling jars of jelly; he was proof that purpose doesn’t always show up in the places you expect. Sometimes, it hides in a chance meeting, a side hobby, or even a flat-tire fiasco.
That single moment nudged me to start digging into what made me feel fulfilled. Sure, I still loved stories, but not the way I was telling them through ad copy and ROI metrics. What really lit me up was reaching people, connecting with them on a deeper level—not trying to push a product. Turns out, Bob wasn’t just a cactus jelly wizard; he was a life coach in disguise.
How to Accidentally Discover Your Own Purpose
I get it, though: not everyone’s going to meet a jelly evangelist in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. But what if uncovering your purpose isn’t about waiting for some magical moment to strike? What if it’s about creating opportunities to see your world—and yourself—differently?
Here’s how you can channel your inner cactus-jelly Bob and embrace happy accidents in your search for meaning:
1. Get Out of Your Usual Sandbox
Whether it’s a literal sandbox in the desert or just your predictable daily routine, shake it up. Start saying “yes” to new experiences, even if they don’t seem obviously tied to your big goals. Go to that trivia night your friends keep bugging you to join. Take the scenic route home. Pick up an instrument you’ve never played. Purpose is sneaky, and often, it hides where you least expect it.
2. Pay Attention to What Lights You Up
Bob didn’t start his jelly empire overnight, and I didn’t flip my career switch right after our run-in. But what stuck with me was his pure enthusiasm. His joy for what he created was contagious. Think about the moments, ideas, or projects that make you lose track of time—not what you should do, but what you want to do—and lean into them. The clues add up quickly if you’re paying attention.
3. Treat Setbacks as Invitations
Flat tires, career ruts, rejected ideas—what they all have in common is their ability to redirect you. At first, they’re annoying. But like Bob’s beaming jelly salesman energy, setbacks can sometimes reveal something meaningful you’d never stumble upon otherwise.
4. Look for Unlikely Teachers
Bob wasn’t a TED Talk or a bestselling book; he was a guy with a folding table making a small impact in a big way. Don’t underestimate the wisdom of the everyday. People you meet, stories you hear, late-night conversations—they’re all clues waiting to point you toward something bigger.
A Purpose That’s (Mostly) Prickly Pear Free
Now, you probably won’t find me competing with Bob at the next county fair (for one thing, I’m an abysmal cook). But here’s what I’ve learned since that day: purpose isn’t a neon sign above your head screaming do this thing forever! It’s often quieter, subtler, and pieced together through small actions and bigger questions.
For me, it’s meant pivoting toward embracing storytelling—real, raw, and heartfelt—without the corporate strings attached. I write to connect, to inspire, and to sip from the same well of joy I saw in Bob that day. I’m not out here trying to change the world, but if I can leave readers with a spark of curiosity about how they connect with themselves and others? That’s enough.
So, here’s your nudge: don’t wait for life to hand you a megaphone moment. Slow down, get curious, and embrace happy accidents. Who knows? Maybe your purpose is waiting, right around the corner, in the middle of a hot desert afternoon. Or, if you’re lucky, hiding in a jar of jelly.
