The quest to find oneself—to find that which moves you, that which makes you you and not anyone else—is, in a way, the shape of one’s true purpose. Often, it is also that which you must keep explaining, because you simply can’t help it. It insists on being.
Over the course of an intense and immersive week at that old lighthouse of minds—where history hums through hallways and questions hang heavier than answers—we, as a cohort, but I especially, revisited the thread of purpose. Mine, it turns out, has always been quietly there: to invite others to join the great conversation.
Not one single conversation, of course—but the vast, interwoven tapestry of thought, stitched across centuries by countless voices. A conversation that does not ask for uniformity, but for presence. Curiosity. Courage.
Coming from a small corner of the world, it’s easy to think our words won’t carry. That they don’t fit the scale of such a grand weave. Many don’t even dare to try. But one of my professors once said: we all share the same grey matter. What changes everything is the environment we build to let that matter matter.
That reflection has been with me for over a decade. It’s shaped how I lead, how I teach, how I write. I remain committed to the task. But the spirit? The spirit flows.
And so, almost without trying, my purpose unveiled itself:
To kindle in others the curiosity and courage to join the great conversation of humanity.
Or, more plainly—
To be the Gandalf to the Bilbo Bagginses of whatever corner I happen to be.