How I Stopped Chasing Purpose and Started Shaping It

Note from Chris:
My debut EP Neuroemergent drops this Friday. It’s been an awesome ride so far, and your feedback’s been a huge part of it. I want to keep the conversation going, so I’ll keep posting more of the thoughts and stories I might’ve kept to myself before. 😉

I watched a video this week from Dr. K at Healthy Gamer GG. He described purpose, using the self-determination theory, as the ratio between challenges we choose and challenges life forces on us. That idea stuck with me. It fits how I’ve been thinking about purpose as something we shape through identity, friction, and feedback, not something we simply stumble across or have forced on us.

From Masking to Making

For years I tried to live up to the idea of the model employee. Always reliable, always optimistic, always on. It worked until it hollowed me out. Burnout wasn’t failure. It was the moment I realized the story I was performing didn’t match the story I needed.

As a kid, I was often called too much of something. Too talkative. Too sensitive. Too intense. I learned early that shrinking those parts made life smoother and it did. I was the model coachable student, son, athlete, etc. So as an adult, I didn’t need anyone else to say those words, I was already saying them to myself constantly. I called my energy “too much,” my focus “too narrow,” my optimism “too naïve.” It became a quiet kind of masking that limited what I shared and how I created.

Now I’m learning to express more, not less.

To treat those “toos” as feedback, not flaws. Each one marks a place I was never meant to stay small. Purpose began to change shape when I stopped treating identity as a label handed down by others and started treating it as something I design. Not reinvention for attention, but construction with intent.

As I was reflecting on this, I came up with this simple framework to express that process. I call it the Roots, Roles, and Rhythms of Shaping Identity.

Roots, Roles, and Rhythms

of Shaping Identity

Roots

Roots are what anchor identity.

They feed the kind of person you’re becoming before any job, title, or achievement. Most people chase purpose through performance, but roots remind me that purpose starts underground in what nourishes my sense of self.

My roots are creativity, clarity, connection, rhythm, and play.

• Creativity turns chaos into coherence, shaping identity through the act of making.
• Clarity defines what matters and keeps me aligned with values instead of validation.
• Connection grounds identity in relationship, reminding me that purpose is shared, not solitary.
• Rhythm balances effort and rest so I don’t lose myself in productivity.
• Play keeps identity evolving, it’s how curiosity keeps purpose alive.

When I nourish these roots, identity grows in the right direction, and purpose begins to surface naturally. Not as a goal, but as a reflection of who I am.

Roles

Roles are how my roots take form in the world.

They’re not job titles; they’re living identities I step into to express what matters most to me. Now, before you picture me listing “husband, father, director of education, etc” that’s not where this is going. As much as I love them, they are life circumstances (sacred ones, yes) but they’re not the foundation of who I am. Roles, in this sense, are internally shaped by intent, not assigned by situation.

If I lose a job, I don’t lose my identity. If life shifts, my roles adapt with me. They’re portable expressions of what I value, not labels that can expire.

Right now, my roles are:

• The Rhythm Architect — I design harmony inside chaos. I build coherence through structure, flow, and rhythm.
• The Creative Synthesist — I blend art, science, and story into something new. Curiosity is my operating system.
• The Neuroemergent Catalyst — I translate complexity into clarity and help spark attention so others see their own patterns of growth.
• The Conversationalist — I create meaning through dialogue, listening as deeply as I speak.
• The Inner Ally — I advocate for myself the way I do for others. I protect the energy that fuels everything else through rest, honesty, and self-compassion.

These roles bring intention into form. They help me see myself with focus, and maybe they bring a smile of recognition to you too. But roles alone don’t bring purpose into focus. They’re blueprints, not buildings. They describe identity but don’t yet embody it.

That’s where the paradox begins.

Purpose doesn’t appear because I define my identity; it emerges when I live it. Goals can point the way, but without identity behind them, they rarely hold. I can set a goal to walk every day, but unless I see myself as a person who walks every day, that rhythm won’t last. Identity gives the habit gravity. The same is true for purpose: it doesn’t emerge from chasing outcomes but from inhabiting who I need to be for those outcomes to exist at all.

Rhythms

Rhythms are where that identity takes shape in time.

They turn design into motion and intent into coherence.

The paradox is that rhythm can’t be forced. I can’t schedule meaning into existence, and I can’t grind my way to clarity. Yet without rhythm, identity never settles into something sustainable. It’s the pulse that makes purpose visible. Visible not through achievement or external validation, but through consistency, rest, and return.

My rhythms aren’t about productivity. They’re patterns that keep me aligned: writing each week, music on weekends, movement every day, and moments of stillness when friction rises. These aren’t checkboxes. They’re cues to stay intentional and keep shaping how I move through the world.

When I fall out of rhythm, I lose coherence.

I start chasing purpose again instead of living it. But when I return, when I show up, rest, create, and reflect, purpose comes back into focus.

When roots ground me, roles give me shape, and rhythm holds me steady, purpose doesn’t need to be found. It emerges as a steady note rising from the noise.

Friction: The Refiner

It shows up in failure, feedback, and success.

Each outcome applies pressure that tests what I’ve built and shapes what comes next. Think of it like footing, the grip that helps me move forward. Without it, I would slide through theory with no traction.

I used to treat friction as something to avoid. Now I see it as part of the design. It doesn’t only expose what’s weak; it strengthens what’s ready. Every setback, surge, or silence is feedback. Friction reveals whether my roots still hold, whether my roles still fit, and whether my rhythm can carry the weight of what I’m creating.

Friction refines and sustains purpose once it has emerged. It keeps meaning alive by forcing it into contact with reality. Without that contact, purpose fades into theory. With it, purpose evolves and spreads.

For me, the loop works like this:

• Roots feed identity from the inside.
• Roles express it in the world.
• Rhythms keep it alive through practice.
• Friction refines and sustains it through sharing.

When these interact, purpose grows in the dialogue and dance between between what I shape and how the world responds.

The Emergence of Purpose

That emergence of purpose is part of what I consider being neuroemergent. It is a mind that not only adapts but also shapes. It responds in real time to the pressures and possibilities of an accelerating world. Some of those forces are chosen, others arrive uninvited. Purpose grows in that ratio, in how I meet what comes and turn it into something I help design.

My work, whether in a studio, a meeting, or a song, is to keep shaping identity so that purpose continues to unfold through action. Meaning isn’t found or chased. It’s revealed through rhythm, refined through friction, and sustained through design.

Living the Loop

If this idea resonates, try shaping one small part of your world with more intention this week. A habit, a role, a rhythm. See how purpose starts to surface when identity leads the way. And if it connects, share it with someone who might need it too.

CLK