HOW TO FIND PURPOSE, MEANING, AND RECLAIM THE ZEST FOR LIFE.
Have you ever been starved or beaten nearly to death? Has someone taken away your loved ones and locked you up, without rhyme or reason, indefinitely? I just finished reading Victor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning”, and what this man faced in Nazi concentration camps are things many of us can’t even fathom. But while I’ve heard mentions of this book on The Tim Ferris Show and Jordan Peterson’s chat with Tony Robbins, the time to buy it never felt right. Until now.
“Man’s Search for Meaning” struck various chords with my own life. Frankl’s story got me thinking about my own struggles, nowhere near as severe but still real. I can relate to facing such dire circumstances that all one has is the spirit to keep moving forward. I can also relate to wanting to give up. Sometimes the results of your choices beat you to a pulp, and it’s easier to consider what most avoid thinking about, than staying alive and enduring more turmoil. In my case, I found direction and purpose during my darkest hour, path that has taken me in many interesting and challenging directions in the last few years. But I’d say that finding my way was a product of “Divine intervention.” I did not have a theoretical approach to getting out of emotional hell or how to walk the path of adventure.
Upon finishing Frankl’s book, however, I discovered that what I stumbled upon is something he thoroughly discusses in “Logotherapy”. In a nutshell, his view of man’s search for a meaningful life revolves around having hefty goals and striving to achieve them with everything you got, something that Peterson also talks about. Besides a worthwhile goal, transmuting the meaning of difficult circumstances can help us look at life in a different way, and lead us to act differently towards it. In those camps, for example, the prisoners who had a why—seeing their family again, opening up a business, traveling across the world—made it, or at least found the strength within themselves to keep going. But the rest did not.
However, something that resonated with me is an issue that modern humans seem to struggle with. Besides the importance of a reason to progress, Frankl also discusses the concept of an “existential vacuum”: a mental state of mind resembling a prison with open doors, where one suffers from their own satisfaction. Not the satisfaction of pursuing lofty goals and achieving them, but the satisfaction of finding such state of “comfort” that one loses the desire to pursue anything else.
Today’s world seems like an existential vacuum sort-of trap, because by prioritizing predictability and avoid facing the unknown, we have lost or no longer experience the urgency linked to surviving or making a breakthrough. Most get paid on a regular basis, have access to food, water and heat all year round, and have so much “free” time on their hands that they don’t know what to do with it. That’s when our lack of purpose becomes obvious. But instead of trying to find meaning to our lives, we bury the discomfort of our conscience with the always-available and easy-to-access abundance of entertainment. “Panem et circuses”. Give them bread and circuses, and they will never revolt.
I’ve been a voluntary victim of this issue. In my pursuit for the so called “financial freedom”—the misconceived notion that one can have so much money to never work a day in their life again and do whatever they want—, I discovered that when you reach that point (you don’t need that much money to begin with), things begin to get a bit boring. You can travel, practice sports, pursue hobbies and other things that give you a rush of pleasure and excitement, but eventually our tolerance increases, their effects wear off and you find yourself yearning for something else. Depth. The result of our desires becomes a cross to carry, and we struggle to even contemplate the responsibilities we once so gladly embraced. Life becomes monotonous, our sense of security begins to feel like a prison more than a reward, and we want a way out.
But what if the way out, is going in? Every person I’ve met has easily answered this question: “If you inherited 200 million dollars but in order to get the money, you’d have to work for free for the rest of your life. What would you do?”. The answers are baffling: CPAs confess they would be nursery owners, CEOs would do wood work, and soldiers would become therapists. While most people won’t inherit 200 million dollars, they can still discover a worthy goal where the ultimate payout is fulfillment, therefore giving meaning to their life. You might not be in line to receive duffles full of Benjamins, but you can change your life exactly where you are. All you need is to have an honest chat with yourself, understand a few things about who you are, why you do what you do, and make the decision to improve the way you feel.
So how do we break free from this prison? The following exercises are designed to help you gain clarity and direction. By completing this quest, you will confront the challenge you’re facing, craft a roadmap to get out of the hole, and set a destination that will get you moving. This is a great first step to shake things up a bit and bring back the zest of life you are seeking but don’t know where to find.
The “Meaning Mission” Challenge
Ready to break out of the comfort trap and inject some depth back into your life? This quick exercise will help you uncover what’s holding you back, what needs to shift, and why it’s worth the effort. Grab a pen, a coffee (or whiskey, no judgment), and let’s get to it.
Step 1: The Million-Dollar Daydream (2 Minutes)
Imagine you wake up tomorrow with $200 million in your bank account—but there’s a catch: you have to spend your days doing something meaningful, for free, that lights you up. No pressure to pay bills, no excuses. What would you do? Write it down—be specific. Are you building something, helping someone, creating art, exploring the world? Don’t overthink it; let your gut lead.
Step 2: The “Why Not Now?” Gut Check (3 Minutes)
Look at what you wrote. Now ask yourself: Why am I not doing even a tiny version of this already? Jot down the first three excuses that pop up—time, money, fear of failure, “I’m not ready”? Be brutally honest. These are the bars of your existential prison. Next to each, write one small, rebellious action you could take this week to defy it. (Example: “No time” → “Spend 15 minutes brainstorming it tomorrow morning.”)
Step 3: The Lofty Goal Litmus Test (4 Minutes)
Finding purpose in life is all about chasing meaning through big, hairy goals. So, tweak your daydream into a “lofty goal” that scares you a little and excites you a lot. Ask yourself:
Does this feel bigger than just me? (Think impact, purpose, legacy.)
Would I leap out of bed to tackle it, even on a bad day?
What’s one bold move I could make now to kick it off? Write down your goal and that first move. Make it concrete—no vague “I’ll think about it” nonsense. Your first move doesn’t need to be a game-changer. The smaller, the better.
Bonus Round: The Accountability Dare
Tell someone about your lofty goal—friend, partner, random stranger on X (tag me if you do!). Better yet, commit to reporting back in 30 days with one wild story of how it’s going. Nothing like a little social pressure to keep the fire burning, keep track of your progress, and show yourself that you can achieve big things.
You don’t need to face the ultimate life test, be imprisoned in a war camp, or live life like Samurai Jack to tap into the power of purpose. The exercise above will help you get some direction, and hopefully be the rope to climb the pit of despair you might find yourself in. But if you don’t look up to where you want to go and devise a plan to get there, its likely you’ll stay where you are, suffer even more, and eventually hit rock bottom one way or another, which can either help you get out of the hole after all, or decimate you. I’m not much of a gambler and know what I would do. But you decide.
Thanks for reading and having the courage to face what others avoid. I hope this blog post was helpful.
Until next time,
Victor