The Day the Universe Called (And I Almost Hung Up)

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it—like spotting a bear mid-hike or running into your ex at the grocery store while clutching a frozen pizza and a six-pack of bad decisions. One minute, you’re fumbling through your day like a B-list extra in someone else’s movie, and the next, you’re stumbling (often literally) into a moment that rewrites your entire script.

I didn’t set out to discover my purpose. Frankly, I thought purpose was for people who wore those colorful wristbands and ate kale by choice. I was just a park ranger in Grand Teton National Park, chasing elk out of parking lots and trying not to lose my keys—hardly the stuff of grand existential revelations. Until one day, it was.

The “Happy Accident” That Changed Everything

It started with a guided hike I didn’t want to lead. It was a Saturday afternoon, warm enough that I could smell the pine sap baking in the sun. There was a group of tourists waiting—folks from New York and L.A., armed with phone cameras and expressing genuine terror at the thought of encountering wildlife in the wild. Someone had assigned me to show them around.

I wasn’t in the best mood. I’d spent most of the morning untangling a spotted fawn from a chain-link fence and was sporting a healthy mix of sweat and barbed wire scratches. But hey, duty called.

We were maybe ten minutes into the trail when a wiry woman in oversized sunglasses asked me, “Why do the trees look like that?”

She was pointing to the lodgepole pines, their trunks peppered with little black holes left by sapsuckers. And instead of just answering, something in me clicked. I started explaining. Really explaining. I told her about the symbiosis between the birds and the trees, how the forest reshapes itself like one giant, living puzzle. Somehow, this spiraled into an impromptu TED Talk about ecosystems, balance, and how nothing in nature—not even the scraggliest shrub—is pointless.

What I didn’t expect was the reaction. The group stopped dead in their tracks. People blinked up at me like I’d just handed them the meaning of life written on a trail map. Some even started asking more questions—bigger ones, like “What’s the role of humans in all this?” Suddenly, I wasn’t just a guy pointing at plants. I was a translator between their world and this one. And for the first time in my professional life, something clicked: I mattered in this equation.

By the end of the hike, one guy clasped my shoulder, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “You should write this stuff down.”

Reader, I did. Eventually.

What My Chance Experience Taught Me About Purpose (And What It Can Teach You)

Like most folks, I thought “finding your purpose” was something you could research. Read the right books, take the right BuzzFeed quiz, and bam—you’ve got your answer. I didn’t expect mine to ambush me on a dusty trail between a grouchy marmot and a group of weekend hikers. But here's the thing about purpose: it’s often hiding in plain sight, waiting for you to stop, look around, and notice.

Not sure how to get started? Here are some things I learned the hard way—so maybe you don’t have to.

1. Stop Overthinking It

When people talk about purpose, they tend to overcomplicate it. We imagine it’s supposed to look big and shiny, like an Oscar or a ring pop-sized engagement diamond. But nine times out of ten, your purpose is already sitting in the middle of your life, disguised as that thing you can talk about endlessly without running out of steam. For me, it was telling stories about the natural world. For you? Heck, maybe it’s knitting hats for rescue dogs or teaching your clueless friends how to make guac without ruining it.

2. Get Uncomfortable

I hated leading that hike. I would’ve rather cleaned bear spray residue off my jacket—but stepping out of my comfort zone ended up being the best thing I could’ve done. Sometimes, the stuff we don’t want to do (networking mixers, early Saturday brunches where they only serve kale) is where the magic happens. You don’t discover anything new by standing still.

3. Listen to the Universe, Even When It Whispers

Here’s the thing: life doesn’t always send purpose in grand, cinematic gestures. There’s no Jumbotron flashing, “THIS IS IT.” Sometimes, it’s just a grain of an idea planted by someone who notices something in you before you notice it in yourself. Take that little nudge seriously. Write it down. Mull it over. You might be staring at your next chapter.

Applying This to Relationships (Because Yes, It Applies There Too)

So, how does this little slice of self-discovery tie back to the romance side of life? Well, for starters, finding your purpose and connecting with the right people are both rooted in the same thing: authenticity.

Think of it this way—have you ever been on a date where the other person talked about their job like they were narrating a car chase? The passion practically caught fire across the table. Now, compare that to a date where someone droned on about something they didn’t care about, like they were reciting terms and conditions. It’s night and day, right?

When you start living your purpose—even if you’re just dipping your toes in—you become magnetic. The light inside you draws in not only opportunities but also people who align with the most true version of yourself. And isn’t that the whole point of both life and love? To show up as yourself and watch what happens when you do?

So, What’s Your Takeaway?

You don’t have to be a park ranger defending chipmunks in the parking lot to stumble into your purpose. Sometimes, all it takes is a chance encounter or an unexpected opportunity to teach you what lights you up inside. Don’t ignore it. Don’t brush it off. Those moments of “accidental discovery” are the breadcrumbs life leaves for you to follow—which, fair warning, might lead you to places more rewarding and terrifying than you ever dreamed.

My accidental discovery wasn’t about me finding my calling. It was about recognizing it was always there, waiting for the right push to crack it open. Yours might be too. So go ahead—take the boring hikes, say yes to random plans, and keep your ears open for the universe calling.

Just don’t forget to answer.