We had been working together for several months. R reached out to me for support. She felt that her work no longer brought her joy. She couldn’t answer for herself the question of purpose in life, and at the same time she felt she wasn’t living that purpose through her work.
We did thorough work exploring the sources of meaning in her life, her values, and her talents. R gradually began to use the insights and tools, implement changes, think and act differently.
A few weeks ago, R gave a presentation to a group of key people in her organization. It was personally important for her to perform well, to be noticed, and remembered. Before the event, we had a session where we looked at her ideas and how she wanted to tell the story she was preparing. By the end of that session, R was full of enthusiasm.
A few days after the presentation, we met again. She said the presentation had been very well received. Then she calmly added: “I’ve lost my ambition and enthusiasm. I no longer feel that spark I once had for my work. What should I do with this?”
We had come full circle. How to approach such a challenge? Why is it that when things are going so well, they can feel so wrong? How do we make ourselves want to want again?
We had two options. To start searching for strategies and ways to regain her lost enthusiasm for work—whether in this job or another one, on these projects or different ones, with these people or with others. Or to listen to this message and sit with it for a while.
“R,” I said, “your intellect, or your ego, thinks it’s a bad thing that you’ve lost ambition and enthusiasm for work. That’s perfectly normal. The ego looks for comfort, safety, acceptance, and recognition—it loves the status quo. This fading of energy happens to all of us; sometimes it’s about work, sometimes about other areas of life. We then try to change the situation, double down on our efforts, make big changes, or escape into a new job, new relationships, a new place, shopping, addictions. But listen—what if we assumed this was a message from your psyche, or your soul, saying it no longer wants to invest so much energy in this area of your life? To what would your soul want to direct your attention?”
After a moment of silence, R replied: “What comes to mind are relationships with friends and family, and also running and hiking. Alongside work, these are the main sources of meaning in my life.”
This opened up a conversation about the existential perspective on life. Existential philosophy distinguishes four dimensions of life: physical, social, personal (psychological), and spiritual. The physical dimension includes everything material: the natural environment, objects and possessions, our body. The social dimension covers our relationships with others, our position and roles in society, and the culture we were raised in and live in. The personal/psychological dimension includes our character and personality, intellectual abilities, self-esteem, personal growth, autonomy, and freedom. And finally, the spiritual dimension embraces our larger system of transcendent ideals beyond ourselves—faith, spiritual values, meaning in life, and our place in the universe.
The art of living well lies in having all these dimensions present in our lives—not too much, not too little. Both a shortage and an excess of energy, time, attention, and resources invested in each dimension carry risks and consequences (sometimes delayed). Research shows that experiences that involve all four dimensions bring us the greatest sense of meaning and fulfillment. For me personally, this happens while hiking with others: I feel my body and emotions, I rest, I take in the beauty of the landscapes, enjoy the open horizons, spend time with people who matter to me, and experience both nature and my place in the universe.
Coming back to R. The thought that she wasn’t facing a failure or a problem, but rather a call of the soul—the existential perspective, the realization that others go through this too, together with the work she had done so far and who knows what else—all of this sparked an extraordinary shift in her. I had never seen her so natural, direct, open, laughing ear to ear, full of positive energy. It was as if a burden she had been carrying was suddenly lifted. This was R as I had never known her before. Perhaps even R as she herself had not remembered. As I write this now, weeks later, I still feel moved, with chills down my spine.
I am convinced that in that moment, R connected with the inner source of energy and life that I call the soul. I’m also aware that ahead of her lies much work, struggle, doubt, and difficulty—as well as joy and success—in finding her own existential balance and well-being. I am grateful to walk alongside her on this journey, and in doing so, to experience meaning in my own life.
What is your soul calling you to? To what extent are the four existential dimensions—physical, social, personal, and spiritual—present in your life? Which experiences bring you the deepest sense of meaning and fulfillment?