Is There Such a Thing as Too Much Purpose?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about slowing down. The reason is simple: I’ve realized that I often become a victim of treadmills.

Years ago, when I was more focused on material things, it was the hedonic treadmill. I thought I could buy my way to happiness: another gadget, another car, another vacation. But like most of us eventually learn, the joy from those things faded fast. Then came my discovery of the FIRE movement—Financial Independence, Retire Early. I loved saving, investing, and watching the numbers grow. But that too became a treadmill, one I call overdrive: the relentless cycle of saving, optimizing, and planning for the future until it becomes the only thing that matters.

And of course, there’s the achievement treadmill. You reach one milestone, and it feels incredible…for about a minute. Then you find yourself asking, What’s next? You push for something bigger, bolder, better. Before long, you’re sprinting again, chasing after the next shiny benchmark.

Life, it turns out, is full of treadmills.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a question that surprised me: Can there be too much purpose?

It sounds strange, doesn’t it? We spend so much time trying to find our purpose that the idea of having too much of it feels almost blasphemous. But I think it’s possible to get on a purpose treadmill, too.

Here’s what I mean.

I do a lot of things that feel deeply purposeful. I love to write, to podcast, to speak publicly about ideas that matter to me. I love to read, and I love to walk for miles along the lake while letting my thoughts drift. All of this fills me up.

But over time, I noticed something: I was busy. In fact, I was sometimes putting in 70 or 80 hours a week doing “purposeful” things. Writing, recording, speaking—each activity gave me joy and meaning. But if you looked at my schedule from the outside, I was basically a workaholic. Maybe not a workaholic; maybe a purposeaholic.

That realization stopped me.

Could it be that even purpose has diminishing returns? That when we fill every available moment with “meaningful” activity, we actually lose a sense of peace? That the constant doing, even if it’s for all the right reasons, starts to erode the quiet stillness that makes purpose feel, well, purposeful in the first place?

I think I’ve jumped on a purpose treadmill, running faster and faster, never quite getting anywhere new.

So how do we step off?

Maybe we start by asking the same question we’d ask about any treadmill: Is this still making me happy?

Pursuing purpose absolutely makes me happy. Up to a point. Writing, podcasting, and speaking light me up inside. They make me feel useful and connected. But if I do too much of them, I eventually hit a wall. The joy fades into exhaustion. And maybe that’s the lesson here: we humans are really good at overdoing just about everything, including the things that are supposed to fulfill us.

If we truly want peace, maybe the secret isn’t more purpose, but less speed.

Maybe we don’t need to fill every moment with achievement or meaning. Maybe it’s okay—healthy, even—to leave some open air in our days. Space to breathe. Space to do something unproductive, something ordinary.

Because not everything in life has to “light us up.”

I like taking naps in the middle of the day. That’s not purpose. It doesn’t expand my mind or push my mission forward. But it makes me feel good. I like watching TV with my wife in the evenings. Again…not purpose. Not personal growth. But it’s connection, comfort, and rest. It slows me down.

Maybe that’s what balance actually looks like. Not abandoning purpose, but giving it room to breathe.

We’re taught to think of purpose as something we should pursue relentlessly. But perhaps it’s something we should cultivate gently. Purpose shouldn’t consume every corner of our lives; it should fit alongside stillness, laughter, rest, and even boredom.

Because the truth is, even the most meaningful work can start to feel hollow when it becomes constant. Purpose without pause turns into noise.

So yes, I think there is such a thing as too much purpose.

The way to avoid that trap isn’t to give up on what moves us, but to slow down. To create a rhythm that allows for both meaning and margin.

Maybe that means scheduling nothing from time to time. Maybe it means doing something delightfully pointless. Maybe it just means saying, “That’s enough for today.”

Just because you’ve found your purpose doesn’t mean it has to fill every nook and cranny of your life. Sometimes, peace comes not from doing more—but from doing less, more intentionally.

Because the real goal isn’t to live a life that’s endlessly purposeful.

It’s to live a life that feels whole.

Did you catch this week’s episode of Earn & Invest (Click to listen)?

The Purpose Code is Now Available!