Purpose is not a thunderclap.
It is an internal meeting
that keeps getting rescheduled
until you finally show up.
A quiet room inside your chest
where intention sits across from attention,
and they ask the same question every morning:
Where will we aim today?
Outside, the world is ordinary.
Coffee lines. Traffic lights.
Emails that could cut or carry grace.
Moments so small they beg to be dismissed.
But purpose lives there.
In the pause before you speak.
In the choice to listen instead of win.
In generosity that no one applauds.
It is kindness when no one is watching.
Encouragement offered without leverage.
Patience practiced with people
who never thank you for it.
Life is not shaped by grand declarations,
but by the steady accumulation
of tiny, faithful decisions
how you treat the person in front of you,
what you give your attention to,
what you refuse to harden into.
Internal alignment.
External impact.
A daily yes to showing up awake.
Purpose is choosing, again and again,
to be someone who makes rooms lighter,
paths clearer,
and hearts less alone
one small, consistent act at a time.
