practices that help you understand what you want from life

there was a time when i thought “figuring out your life” would arrive like a letter in the mail. like one day you’d open your inbox and there it would be — your calling, your timeline, your road map. an inner certainty would switch on, and you’d start living with crisp direction and a natural glow. i waited years for that moment. sometimes i still do. but the more i grow into the messiness of adulthood, the more i realize: you don’t receive your life’s purpose in one dramatic download. you accumulate it. through small questions, strange longings, gentle pivots, and the brave decision to pause before pushing forward.

what i’ve learned is that clarity doesn’t come from force. it doesn’t respond to pressure. and it definitely doesn’t show up when you’re spiraling in a productivity shame-loop, trying to schedule your future with a color-coded planner and an emotional hangover. instead, understanding what you want from life often emerges in quiet moments — when you’re doing something seemingly unrelated, like taking a long walk, or washing your hair, or rereading an old text message that made you feel something. it reveals itself not when you’re demanding answers, but when you’re building the emotional conditions where answers feel welcome to arrive.

for a long time, i thought i wanted ambition, achievement, aesthetic proof that i was becoming someone. but when i look back, the times i felt closest to myself were never the highlight-reel moments — they were the simple, slow, unremarkable hours where i let myself move without judgment. mornings where i wrote without a goal. days i stayed off social media and followed a thread of curiosity like a child. conversations that made me feel seen, even if nothing got resolved. clarity didn’t arrive like a fact. it arrived like a feeling. and i had to learn how to recognize it.

if you’re in that season of not knowing — if your goals feel vague, your vision feels foggy, and your inner compass keeps recalibrating — here are some practices that have helped me (and others i deeply trust) understand what we actually want from life. not what looks good on paper. not what makes our parents proud. but what feels like home in the body. and that’s what matters most.

6 soft practices that help you figure out what you want from life

1. start noticing what gives you energy (and what drains it)

instead of asking “what’s my passion?” — start with a softer lens: what feels good in my nervous system? you’ll learn more about yourself by tracking your energy than your accomplishments. keep a low-stakes log for two weeks: note what conversations feel nourishing, what kinds of work make time disappear, what content you consume when no one’s watching. the truth is, we often know what we want — we just override it in the name of productivity or comparison. energy is the most honest feedback we have. treat it like data.

2. romanticize your curiosity and follow your micro-obsessions

sometimes the clearest path forward is through the side door. instead of hunting for a “life purpose,” try following the things that spark curiosity — even if they seem random. if you’re obsessed with old houses, watch renovation videos. if you can’t stop thinking about scent theory or 90s music videos or mushroom recipes, indulge it. don’t ask what it “leads to.” the right life often grows sideways. and what looks like a distraction may turn out to be the root of your next becoming.

3. answer questions in longform, not bullet points

we’re conditioned to answer life’s biggest questions in neat, résumé-friendly blurbs. but what if you wrote messy, rambling answers instead? take 20 minutes and free-write to these prompts: “what kind of life would I want if I didn’t have to explain it to anyone?” “what do i envy in others — and what does that envy teach me?” “if money weren’t a factor, how would i spend my afternoons?” longform reflection allows you to access quieter parts of your mind — the parts that don’t speak in lists, but in longings.

4. build a vision altar not a vision board

instead of cutting out magazine pictures of yachts and flat abs and beige offices, create a little corner in your room filled with objects that remind you of how you want your life to feel. maybe it’s a vintage postcard from a city you’ve never been to, a candle that smells like your dream kitchen, a perfume that makes you feel like the best version of yourself, a photo of someone who looks emotionally grounded. this is less about manifesting aesthetics, more about returning to feeling. what you want isn’t about outcomes. it’s about emotional textures.

5. observe the things you ritualize without being told

we all have rituals we protect — even when we’re burnt out, distracted, or in flux. for some it’s the first cup of coffee in silence. for others it’s folding laundry in a particular way. maybe it’s rewatching comfort shows or making playlists for imaginary versions of yourself. these rituals often hold clues about what kind of life you want: slow, intentional, romantic, structured, nourishing, playful. when you observe what you return to on autopilot, you start to see the architecture of your actual values.

6. take a solo staycation and observe who you become

spend 24–48 hours completely alone — no social obligations, no errands, no performance. book a stay somewhere that feels a little aspirational, but emotionally safe (a boutique hotel, an Airbnb in a quiet neighborhood, even a weekend at home with your phone off). pack a perfume you only wear for new beginnings. bring a book you wouldn’t normally reach for. and observe: how do you spend your hours when no one’s watching? who do you become when you’re not being mirrored? often, what you want from life isn’t hidden. it’s just drowned out. silence helps you hear it again

7. study your saved folders like a self-portrait

your Instagram saves, Pinterest boards, YouTube likes, and even screenshots form a subconscious museum of who you long to become. don’t scroll them like a moodboard — study them. what’s recurring? vintage kitchens? women dancing alone in silk nightgowns? city apartments with exposed brick? pages from a book you never finished? your algorithm knows more about your desires than you think. pay attention to the patterns you didn’t mean to curate.

8. record 30-second voice notes of stray thoughts

not journal entries, not morning pages — voice notes. ideally while walking or cooking or sitting in a sunbeam. the idea is to capture your thinking mid-motion, without editing. don’t try to be profound. say things like: “i don’t think i want to do that job anymore” or “i wish i woke up somewhere else.” this is not for content. this is for clarity. over time, these snippets become soundproof of your becoming.

9. follow your cravings — yes, actual food cravings

your cravings hold more emotional intelligence than your to-do list. what are you longing for lately — warmth? sharpness? sweetness? crunch? comfort? making and feeding yourself what you deeply want can reveal how you want to live. maybe you don’t want a big career — maybe you just want to feel nourished. maybe you don’t want minimalism — maybe you just want spice and variety. the body often knows before the brain catches up.

10. become a flaneur for a weekend

the french term flâneur refers to a person who wanders the city with no agenda, observing life as art. give yourself a day with no goal. roam a new neighborhood, sit in a café alone, write down overheard conversations, walk until you’re tired, then walk a little more. notice where you gravitate. bookstores? architecture? people? dogs? you’ll learn more about your desires by meandering than planning. and yes, wear a ridiculous outfit if you’d like. this is about self-direction through beauty.

11. make a “no list” and keep adding to it

we’re always told to list what we want — but often, what we don’t want is easier to access. make a running list of things you know drain you: obligations, environments, people, aesthetics, even clothes. do it without guilt or justification. over time, this list becomes a protective field. it shows you what you’re allowed to outgrow, and what no longer deserves space in your becoming.

the truth is, most of us have no idea what we’re doing. we just wake up, drink whatever version of coffee our current personality is into, overthink everything, and hope we’re accidentally building a life we don’t hate. figuring out what you want isn’t some life-changing epiphany — it’s a slow process of eliminating what drains you and chasing what weirdly excites you, even if it makes zero sense on paper.

so no, i don’t have a five-step plan for clarity. but i do know that every time i’ve followed the things that feel oddly specific and a little unserious, i’ve gotten closer to something real.