Purpose, Plans, and Other Things I Don’t Possess
Lately I’ve been thinking about direction, mostly because everyone else seems to have some. Even the King, as another older man, moved on from his brisk tour of the United States, shaking hands, giving speeches, and generally looking as if he knows exactly where he’s meant to be at any given moment.
Meanwhile, I’m still trying to work out whether my own “direction” today involves achieving something meaningful or simply mowing my lawn.
I’ve always admired people who talk about purpose with confidence. They have plans, goals, visions, the whole motivational toolkit. They stride through life like they’re following a well‑marked route. I, by contrast, tend to move the way a British pedestrian crosses a busy road, cautiously, apologetically, and with the faint suspicion I’m doing it wrong.
If I’m honest, my direction in life is less “inner compass” and more “gentle nudges from reality.” I get up because lying in bed forever is frowned upon. I work because bills exist. I make decisions by choosing whichever option seems least likely to cause embarrassment or require phoning someone. If the universe is sending me guidance, it’s usually in the form of a cancelled train or a reminder that I’ve run out of tea bags.
Still, there’s something grounding about watching national figures march around with purpose. While the King was delivering speeches in Washington and politely navigating American enthusiasm, I was reorganising the garden shed and wondering if that counted as progress. Some people reinforce diplomatic ties with a super-power, I remember bin day. We all contribute in our own way.
Perhaps direction doesn’t need to be grand. It doesn’t have to involve state visits, formal dinners, or perfectly timed handshakes. It can be as small as choosing the next sensible step, finish the task in front of you, be decent, avoid unnecessary drama, and try not to say anything regrettable before lunch. My life isn’t a royal itinerary, it’s more of a steady shuffle towards bed.
So what gives me direction? A mixture of habit, hope, and the quiet British instinct to keep going even when you’re not entirely sure where you’re headed. The King has his schedule; I have my to‑do list. Both get us through the day.
If I do have a guiding principle, it’s this, just keep moving, preferably forward, and trust that it’ll probably be fine.