Simple purpose

Recently, I went trekking in Nepal. Sometimes upon returning from a trip, I feel the pressure to return with exciting stories—the near-death experiences and anecdotes that leave people wide-eyed and laughing. But upon reflecting on my time away, it was the simple moments that stuck with me: the cups of masala tea at the end of a long day’s trek; the mountain air with subtle notes of steamed rice and yak dung; the local children that would run onto the track and give flowers to passing hikers; the colourful flags strung over swinging bridges and milky white rivers; the parade of donkeys that would announce their oncoming with bells (a saving grace when you needed a reason to pull over for a breather). And most of all, the Nepali people with their big, patient hearts and tendency to dance after every one of life’s wins.    

Among these were my guides, a father-and-son pair from the small mountain town of Lukla, where the Everest Route begins. They were two of the happiest, most selfless people I’ve met and always wore a smile—even when they were carrying the equivalent of their body weight strapped to their heads or tending to our altitude-stricken side effects and picky meal requests. As I got to know them, I learned they didn’t have an easy life. Their work was hard, opportunities few, they didn’t own much and they’d faced more tragedies than most. Still, the father would look out over the mountains and say, “I’m so happy!” . . . always followed by a little chuckle and a long exhale.  

I got the break I was hoping for in Nepal, but I also returned feeling conflicted about my priorities back home. It was a familiar feeling that I’ve only ever experienced upon returning from a country less fortunate than mine—the feeling that somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten what life is about and allowed other things to take precedence.  

the search for purpose

Having a purpose in life not only gives us a sense of peace and direction but it’s also associated with living longer. One study showed that people with a high score for “purpose in life” were nearly 50 per cent less likely to die from all causes.

For thousands of years, everyone from philosophers to scientists, to writers and intellectuals, to you and I, have grappled with the questions, “What am I here for?” “What is this all about?” Some avoid going there as it causes too much anxiety. Some spend their whole lives trying to figure it out. Some just shrug it off. 

Many decide their purpose is to be free, successful or happy. But freedom for one is not necessarily freedom for all. Success makes us preoccupied, working jobs we hate to pay bills, accomplish materialistic goals and buy things we barely use. And, at the end of it, many still find themselves with a stomach-level sadness, burned out or unsatisfied. 

Then there’s happiness, which has us chasing one pleasure after another, never finding true contentment. 

I believe our purpose is to love and be loved. Maybe this comes after working in the mental health space, having heard so many clients fret over their purpose and in the next breath unpack the struggles they’re facing in their relationships. Or maybe it’s from spending my twenties backpacking, seeing that across cultures and nations, some of the happiest people have nothing but those around them.  

In the Bible, God says that relationships are what life is all about. Of the Ten Commandments, four deal with our relationship to God and six deal with our relationships with people. But all 10 are about protecting relationships. “Love means living the way God commanded us to live. As you have heard from the beginning, His command is this: Live a life of love” (2 John 1:6, NCV). Or in other words, “Let love be your greatest aim” (1 Corinthians 14:1, TLB). 

In 2007, the Gallup organisation asked people around the world whether they felt they were leading meaningful lives. Surprisingly, Liberia was the country where people felt the greatest sense of meaning and purpose, while the Netherlands was the country where people felt the least sense of purpose. This wasn’t because Liberia was better off. The opposite was true. But in the turmoil of their lives, the people had to make commitments with each other to survive and this gave them a deep sense of meaning. As author David Brooks says, “That’s the paradox of privilege. When we are well-off, we chase the temporary pleasures that actually draw us apart. We use our wealth to buy big houses with big yards that separate us and make us lonely. But in crisis we are compelled to hold closely to one another in ways that actually meet our deepest needs.”

Nepal, too, is a country where unemployment rates are high, the healthcare and education systems are broken and many live in poverty. Even so, the 2021 World Happiness Report ranked Nepal as the happiest country in south Asia.

Often we act as if our relationships are something to be squeezed into our schedule. We talk about making time for loved ones, children and friends as though they’re just a task in our lives alongside many others. Meanwhile, the most common regret of the dying is they wished they’d spent more time with loved ones. Nobody ever wishes they’d hustled harder or spent more time watching Netflix. And unless you’re Steve Jobs or Thomas Edison, how you treat people will likely have far more of an impact on the world than anything you do. 

it’s all about you

So, if relationships matter most in life, why do we allow them to get the short end of the stick? Around the 1960s, the West started to embrace a hyper-individualistic way of living. Fast-forward a few decades and this emphasis has led to a huge rise in mental illness, suicide, loneliness, the breakdown of families and mistrust. Society tells us, “Chase your dreams!” “Do what you love!” But not only does that fail to fulfil many of our deepest longings, it also isn’t the reality for much of the world. 

I expected, I might return from Nepal ecstatic to have accomplished the hike I set out on, in awe of the mountain views I saw and happy for all the momo dumplings and tea I consumed in between. Instead, it was the uncapped time with people new and old that did it for me. They stirred in me the desire to be warmer, more generous, more gentle. They reminded me countless times each day, “Bistari, bistari”—Slowly, slowly. Enjoy the journey. There’s no need to rush. And they had me coming home thinking, “Wow, those were the most incredible people I have ever met. How can I be more like them?” 

I know that having love as our purpose doesn’t specifically answer the question, “What should I do with my life?”—especially when thinking of one’s vocation. But on whatever path you find yourself—whether in a law firm or scrubbing dishes at a café, travelling the world or abiding in your hometown, going through school or settling into retirement—my advice is this: take love with you wherever you go. Make it your goal to work on yourself and your relationships. Seek out role models and perhaps become a role model yourself. No doubt you’ll find yourself inhabiting opportunities and feeling more fulfilled as a result. 

Life was not meant to be travelled alone. We are shaped by relationships, nourished by relationships and we long for relationships. That desire transcends race, religion, gender, class and age. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honourable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” 

This time of the year is typically when we start making plans to workout more, get a promotion, save money . . . fill in the blank. As you begin another year, take a moment to ask yourself this: “How can I become a more loving individual?” 

May you learn vicariously through my trip to Nepal that love and relationships are the most important things of all. As corny as it may sound, that’s something we can all work towards—from you and I, to the sherpas far away in the Nepalese mountains.