Have you ever had one of those moments when life grabs you by the shoulders, gives you a good shake, and whispers (or maybe shouts), “This is what you’re meant to do”? I used to think those moments only existed in coming-of-age movies or when Oprah gives someone a new car. Spoiler: I was wrong. They happen. And often, they happen when you’re standing knee-deep in something you never expected—literally, in my case. Let me explain.

The Day That Changed Everything (Or at Least Gave It a Nudge)

It started as an innocuous Saturday—a bit overcast, but nothing Colorado hikers aren’t prepared to tackle in a fleece jacket and some optimism. My friend Sarah had convinced me to come along on a tree-planting event near Denver. Now, let me clarify: this was pre-coffee Miles we’re talking about. As someone who survived college by sipping fair trade beans from locally roasted nirvana, I wasn’t entirely functional. But Sarah promised snacks, and, let’s be honest, snacks are how I’ve made most of my questionable life choices.

Fast-forward an hour, and I was standing in a patch of post-industrial wasteland just off I-70, holding a tiny, dirt-covered sapling. Rain clouds loomed overhead, and I wasn’t sure if they were threatening to break or just mocking us for trying to cultivate life where convenience stores and tumbleweed seemed to reign supreme.

We dug. I planted. We laughed over how impossible it felt to imagine someone, decades from now, sitting under the shade of this scrawny stick. “You think this’ll actually work?” I asked Sarah. She shrugged in that way she does when she knows the answer but thinks the question is bigger than both of us.

But here’s the kicker: as the day wore on, something shifted. My hands, sore from digging, started to feel something other than defeat. It wasn’t life-changing yet—just this quiet reminder that I wasn’t planting for me. I was borrowing time, leaving something behind, like all those who’d come before me. Cue the existential spiral, right? But it wasn’t that dire. It was hopeful—a rare feeling during what had, up to that point, felt like a year of career doubts and late-night Googling for “how to find your passion” like some kind of caffeinated existentialist.

Purpose Finds You (Especially When You’re Not Looking)

That day—and trust me, I don’t fully know why—was the start of something. A sapling in my brain got planted alongside those in the dirt. Cheesy, I know, but stay with me. I ran my hands over the rough patches of bark on an older tree nearby and something clicked.

Here’s what I realized: Purpose isn’t always this dazzling, obvious moment. It’s not a neon sign screaming, “THIS IS IT.” (Sorry, rom-com fans, but real life is more subtle and way messier.) More often, purpose sneaks up on you. It grows quiet roots inside you before you’ve even noticed—and eventually, those roots become too strong to ignore.

I wasn’t meant to be just another nonprofit staffer or someone with a cubicle desk plant in an office park. (Honestly, nothing against cubicle plants—they’re probably more emotionally stable than all of us.) I was meant to tell stories about what connects people to things bigger than themselves—to the earth, to each other, to meaning.

And right there, covered in mud and half-listening to Sarah throw biology facts at an unwilling earthworm, I realized that accidental discovery is often just as profound as the ones we meticulously plan for. Sometimes profound moments taste like stale granola bars and smell like mulch.

How to Stumble Into Your Own Version of This

If you’ve scrolled Instagram for inspirational quotes (guilty), you’ve seen people say you need to “find your why.” But here’s the thing no one tells you: you can’t force purpose. It’s like love—it happens when you’re not hunting it like a lost set of car keys. But there are ways to invite it in. Let me share what worked for me that day and might just work for you.

1. Say Yes to Weird Opportunities

When Sarah invited me to join in a low-glamour, rain-threatened volunteer project, I could’ve said no. Trust me, I wanted to. But saying yes leads you into spaces you don’t usually occupy, and those are often the places where growth happens.

Try this: The next time a friend invites you to something that feels just outside your comfort zone (trivia night? goat yoga?), say yes. It might not be life-changing, but it might nudge open a door that you didn’t know existed.

2. Stop Searching and Start Doing

Purpose doesn’t live in your head. It lives in your actions. That morning, standing in the dirt, I didn’t suddenly emerge as this wise, purpose-bound human. I just planted a tree. Focus on what’s in front of you, especially when you’re feeling stuck. Sometimes, doing the thing, no matter how small, will connect you to something bigger.

3. Be Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

Mud in my shoes, drizzle in my hair, and a sneaky sunburn because Colorado doesn’t care if you think it’s cloudy—glamour wasn’t on the docket that day, but discomfort made me pay attention. The more at ease you get with being uncomfortable, the more you realize it’s where growth lives.

4. Reflect, but Don’t Overthink

It wasn’t until a few days (and miles of journaling) later that I could make sense of what I felt as I roamed that tree-filled wasteland. Try this: After trying something that stretched you, jot down a few notes about how it made you feel. I’m not saying you need to go full-on “Dear Diary,” but reflection can help you notice patterns in what lights you up.

5. Let Go of the “Grand Plan” Myth

I’m all for vision boards and planning apps, but purpose doesn’t always come with five-year timelines or color-coded goals. Sometimes purpose marches in wearing sweatpants and hands you a half-solved puzzle. Go with it.

The Takeaway: It’s Okay That You Don’t Know (Yet)

If you’re chasing purpose and coming up short, hear me out: You’re not behind. You’re not lost. Sometimes, purpose is like those above-ground swimming pools—it takes a while to fill, and it leaks sometimes, but once you get it going, it’s magic. (Bonus points if you don’t lose the filter halfway through.)

For me, my “aha” came with a sapling and dirt-stained fingernails, but yours could come in karaoke bars, crumpled-up grocery lists, or chats with friends over overpriced avocado toast. Keep moving. Keep saying yes. Keep showing up. You’ll find your purpose—or maybe, like me, it’ll find you.

And when it does? Let it take root.