What's the Point?

We often ask ourselves, What’s the point?—not always from despair, but from curiosity. Why do people run marathons, climb mountains, or sign up for challenges that push them to the edge of exhaustion or pain? Why do we rally around big, abstract promises like Make America Great Again or build a better future—for what? What do we imagine happens when we “arrive” at that imagined destination?

It’s tempting to think the point is the prize: the medal, the applause, the victory lap, the achievement unlocked. But again and again, people who reach those mountaintops say it wasn’t the destination that changed them—it was the climb.

So maybe the point is not about having but becoming, which is truthfully so cliche I gagged a little writing that statement.

Give me a minute, and we'll go a little deeper.

When we run toward certain kinds of pain or difficulty, we’re often reaching for growth, connection, mastery, or meaning. We want to test ourselves against the world and see who we are on the other side. We want to expand the edges of our experience, to feel alive, to belong to something larger. This drive can look like self-improvement or nationalism or exploration or devotion—but underneath, it’s a search for essence:

• Who am I really?
• What do I stand for? (And why do I stand for it?)
• What does it mean to live a good life?

When we dream of having everything we want—a great country, a perfect body, a fulfilled life—the irony is that satisfaction often fades quickly. The essence of life may not lie in finishing, but in the continuous unfolding: in the pursuit, the becoming, the learning, the love, the creativity that emerges along the way.

So when we ask, what’s the point?—perhaps the deepest answer is not a goal, but a way of being. A life of presence, growth, and meaning, not because it leads to a final destination, but because the journey itself transforms us.

What Happens When You “Have It All”?

At the risk of sounding existential, let’s imagine you’ve achieved everything you ever dreamed of. You’ve checked every box:

• A healthy marriage
• A fulfilling, successful career
• A home and community that aligns with your values
• Financial and personal security and freedom to do nearly anything you want

What happens then? What fills the space once you no longer need to strive?

For some, this question stirs up discomfort. We’re taught to chase goals, but we rarely talk about what life looks like after the finish line or what we need to get there. And that’s where many people turn to deeper frameworks of meaning, often through religion or philosophy.

Consider this as objectively as possible.

Christianity

Many Christians believe the ultimate purpose of life is to glorify God and live in relationship with Him. Even after achieving worldly success, the deeper call is to praise and honor God—not as a transaction, but as a response to His grace and the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. Life is seen not just as a temporary pursuit of goals, but as preparation for eternal life, marked by love, service, and worship.

Buddhism

Buddhism points in a very different direction. It teaches that life is marked by dukkha—a kind of pervasive dissatisfaction or suffering that even success cannot erase. The goal isn’t to accumulate achievements but to wake up from the illusion that they will bring lasting peace. Through practices like meditation, ethical living, and mindfulness, a person moves toward enlightenment: the release from craving and attachment, and the realization of profound inner freedom.

Scientology (stay with me...)

Scientology offers yet another framework. It teaches that humans are immortal spiritual beings called thetans who have forgotten their true nature. The path involves a process of spiritual rehabilitation through “auditing,” where past traumas and negative influences (called engrams) are cleared. The ultimate goal is to become a Clear or an Operating Thetan, regaining abilities and awareness that transcend the material world. Success, in this view, isn’t just worldly—it’s about reclaiming spiritual power and freedom.

So… What’s the Point?

The essence of life may not lie in just “arriving” at success but in asking:

• What do I do with this life I’ve been given?
• How do I live with purpose, meaning, and integrity?
• How do I relate to something greater than myself—whether that’s God, truth, consciousness, or the well-being of others?

If we remove religion from the picture, we’re still left with these questions: Is the point of life joy, contribution, love, mastery, legacy, or simply being? Maybe the real work begins not when we’re chasing success, but when we stop and ask, What now?

But Here’s the Catch

Human beings — as we so often do — twist these ideals.

And, for lack of a better phrase, we fuck it up.

We weaponize our beliefs against those who don’t share them. We use religion to divide, to judge, to punish — which is ironically in direct opposition to the heart of these traditions:

• Christianity’s call to love
• Buddhism’s call to compassion
• Scientology’s ideal of spiritual freedom (debatable, but I guess that's the point...)

So, the tragedy is not that we ask what’s the point — the tragedy is when we stop asking and start using our beliefs to hurt or exclude.

So… What’s the Essence of Life?

If the universe doesn’t assign a point, humans still make one:

• To grow
• To connect
• To love
• To create meaning
• To leave something behind

It’s not about arriving at a finish line where life is perfect.

It’s about what we do along the way — and whether we let the climb transform us.

On the Contrary… We Also Want to Stop and Enjoy Life

Here’s the paradox: while we’re wired to strive, we’re also wired to savor.

Life isn’t meant to be an endless grind of achievement. Yes, growth matters. Yes, we’re drawn to meaning through challenge. But we’re also meant to pause, to breathe, to feel the sun on our skin, to laugh with people we love, to taste joy for its own sake.

If we only chase hard things, we risk missing the very life we’re trying to build.

David Goggins

Take David Goggins. His life has become almost mythic:

• He became both a Navy SEAL and an Army Ranger.
• He transformed himself from an overweight, struggling man into one of the world’s toughest endurance athletes.
• He broke world records, ran ultramarathons, and set the standard for mental toughness.
• He became a bestselling author (Can’t Hurt Me) and an internationally sought speaker.

Goggins’ mantra — “Stay hard” — has inspired millions. He pushes himself to the edge not for fame, but because, as he says, he’s chasing the version of himself he could have been, the person who didn’t let fear or comfort win.

Why do this? Why seek out such relentless difficulty? Why would anyone choose pain on purpose?

For Goggins, it’s about testing the limits of the human spirit, forging resilience, and proving to himself that he’s in charge — not his circumstances, not his past, not his fear.

For others, the “hard thing” might look completely different:

• Facing a medical diagnosis.
• Staying in a struggling relationship to repair it.
• Leaving a comfortable job to follow a passion.
• Becoming a caregiver for a loved one.

The key is: meaningful hard things — not hard for its own sake, but hard because they reveal something about who we are and what we value.

Hard Things ≠ All Things

But here’s the truth you already sense:

Even the toughest people need rest, connection, joy, and softness.

Life is not only about conquering — it’s about being.

So maybe the real wisdom is knowing when to push and when to pause. When to chase your edge, and when to sit down in the middle of life, look around, and say,

“This is enough, for now.”

Luke: Sailing Between Ease and Effort

Take Luke — the solo sailor who’s gone viral as @sailing_with_phoenix on TikTok and Instagram.

Luke worked a corporate job he hated for 11 years. But deep down, he always wanted to sail. So, he made a decision most of us only fantasize about:

• He cashed out his 401k.
• Bought a boat.
• And set sail from Oregon to Hawaii — with his cat, Phoenix, as his only crewmate.

That’s bold.

Imagine the questions he must have asked himself before casting off:

• Am I willing to trade security for uncertainty?
• What matters more to me — comfort or aliveness?
• What am I afraid of losing — and what am I afraid of never finding if I stay where I am?
• Who do I want to become through this?

Luke’s voyage isn’t just about adventure. It’s about stepping toward a life that feels meaningful, even when it’s terrifying. It’s a vivid, modern example of dancing between effort and ease, risk and rest, chasing and arriving.

A Few Words to Remember:

“We choose to go to the moon, not because it is easy, but because it is hard.” — John F. Kennedy

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” — T.S. Eliot