Dr. Frederik G. Pferdt argues purpose isn't a distant goal but a daily practice built from small acts of attention and kindness. A 13,000-person study found a strong sense of purpose doubles your odds of living to 80. He suggests a simple practice: each evening, write two words capturing a moment of meaning, then look for patterns.
Chapters
Hey, this is Frederik from New York this week with Next Letter. Here I'm spending time at the Institute for Purpose and Flourishing at NYU, and every day here, surrounded by students and scholars and seekers, I'm reminded how deeply the idea of purpose runs through all of us, not as an answer we chase, but as a practice we live. And just last weekend, I was back at Stanford's d.school for a very special celebration and occasion marking 50 years of David Kelley at Stanford and 20 years of the d.school he co-founded. After teaching there for over a decade, it felt like a homecoming. I reconnected with old friends and colleagues and students and met new ones who are carrying that spirit of creative confidence into their own futures. One of my heroes and teachers, David Kelley, once said, "Creativity is a state of mind." And his creative essentials remind us that Enjoying the little things, telling stories that bring ideas to life, and above all, trusting your own creativity aren't just design principles. They are ways of living with purpose. And that weekend reminded me that purpose doesn't belong to job titles or achievements. It lives in communities like this one, in shared laughter, in ideas exchanged, and in the spark in someone's eyes when they rediscover what they care about most. Purpose is a word we hear everywhere—in strategy decks, career talks, self-help books. But I keep returning to one simple truth: purpose isn't something you find out it's something you nurture in here. So this week's reflection is a personal exploration of that idea, one that might just shift how you see your own why. You know, lately I've been seeing the word purpose differently, as a pause between pure and pose. It's not something we chase or find, but something we embody—a way of showing up in the world with clarity, honesty, and care. When we practice purpose, we don't just move towards something meaningful; we move from meaning. And each action becomes a quiet declaration. This is who I'm becoming, and this is how I create what's next. When I was a child, I dreaded the question adults love to ask me, and you've probably heard that too. So what do you want to be when you grow up? I've never had an answer. Doctor, teacher, astronaut, pilot— none of it felt true. What I didn't realize back then, but I see clearly now, is that the question itself was flawed. It pointed me toward a destination, a fixed identity, when life was already inviting me to practice something much deeper. Now at NYU's Institute for Purpose and Flourishing, surrounded by thinkers, seekers, and scientists, I'm reminded daily that purpose is not a job title or a 5-year plan. It isn't answered in the big what, but in the quiet how. So here's my question for you: What if your purpose isn't something you find in the future, but something you practice in the present? So let me share two perspectives. First, purpose cannot be found. We often talk about purpose as if it were buried treasure, treasure hidden somewhere in the distance, waiting for us to stumble upon it. But purpose isn't hiding out there. It's quietly waiting in here, in the smallest of moments, the way we listen without distraction, pause instead of rush, Or offer kindness when no one is watching. Purpose lives in those micro-acts. Ordinary. Repeated. And in those repetitions, it begins to whisper its truth. Second perspective: Purpose emerges in practice. Research from Stanford shows that purpose grows less like a lightning strike and more like a muscle strengthened by reflection and repetition. And you see, in San Francisco, scientists found that small daily moments of gratitude and joy not only reduce stress but increase people's sense of agency. And studies in positive psychology reveal that even writing for a few minutes about your best possible self can boost optimism, and motivation. So the lesson is very simple: purpose doesn't arrive, it accumulates moment by moment, choice by choice, and act by act. So purpose, when practiced daily, this purpose becomes more than personal. It strengthens resilience, supports health, and remarkably it even can extend life. In one long-term study of more than 13,000 adults, those with the strongest sense of purpose were twice as likely to be alive 80 years later compared to those with the weakest. And that held true across every age, income, and background. So believing your life has meaning doesn't just help you flourish mentally; it may literally help you live longer. And the best part? Purpose isn't fixed; it's grown through volunteering, reflection, small acts of care, or simply the courage to ask, "What truly matters today?" Purpose is contagious. What starts in how you treat one person this morning becomes the DNA of how families, teams, and communities thrive tomorrow. So one experiment I want you to try. It's one small experiment you can try literally this week. I call it the two-word test. Each evening, write down two words that capture a moment of meaning from your day. No stories, no explanations, just 2 words. Maybe kindness shared, or eyes meeting, quiet walk, deep breath, helping hand, child's smile. At the end of the week, you'll have 14 words. Small clues to something vast. Read them aloud. They'll whisper what matters most to you and reveal where your purpose is already alive in the details of your days. So each morning, as I walk through Washington Square here, I'm struck by how purpose shows up everywhere. In the musician tuning his violin, the student helping a stranger with directions, the barista remembering someone's name. It's not grand. It's human. And it reminds me the future isn't asking us to find purpose. It's inviting us to practice it. The future love? Frederick.
