"How many of you have been asked, 'What do you want to do with the rest of your life?'"

Nearly every hand went up.

"How many feel pressure to answer that question?"

Same response.

"I'm here to tell you it's the wrong question."

I felt the room exhale.

This week I stood in front of 350 high schoolers at my alma mater during Career Week. Third time I've given this talk. But something different happened this time.

Here's what I told them: The world values your output. Your stats. Your grades. Your resume. But life isn't really about that. What you want to have value is your presence. You are valued for who you are, not what you do.

Purpose isn't something you find. It's something you remember. It's not buried treasure hidden under a rock or hanging from a tree. It's already inside you. And your job right now isn't to answer the big question. It's to run experiments, follow what lights you up, and pay attention to where time stands still.

I told them about sixth grade, when I sat down at an Apple computer in Mr. Goudzward's math class and lost track of 30 minutes like it was nothing. That clue led to my first career in computer programming.

I told them about being 16, coaching my first basketball team in the very gym 20 feet from where I was standing. Forty years ago. That moment led to 12 seasons coaching at CCHS and a life built around coaching.

I talked about the great Teacher Jesus. A carpenter who slid into the family business. But at 12 years old, he sat with rabbis and teachers and lost track of time. He didn't start his life's work until 30. Even the great Teacher needed time to remember who he was.

Here's what delighted me.

After the talk, faculty kept stopping me. The superintendent pulled me aside, a young man I coached 20 years ago, now in charge of the entire school system. We talked about leadership, team building, and how we can serve the students more wholly. Students found me at the basketball game that night and said the same thing:

"You gave me permission."

Permission to try things and not have it figured out.

Permission to say "I don't like this" and consider it a result.

Permission to look for clues instead of forcing answers.

That word. Permission. It kept coming up.

I shared two stories from my own house.

My daughter Bethany knew she wanted something in science but didn't know what. During Career Week, she met a woman who worked in a lab at the University of Chicago. Bethany was being recruited to play softball there. After the session, she introduced herself, got the woman's email, and started a correspondence. That relationship led to an internship, a mentorship, and now a career as a genetic biologist, turning pollution into useful materials.

My daughter Anna thought she wanted to be a psychologist. She started down that path at UIC and discovered it didn't light her up. So she shifted to design. Networked broadly. Just landed a job with a medical marketing company doing the design work she loves.

Same lesson. Different paths.

Neither of them had it figured out in high school. They gave themselves permission to experiment.

The same week I told high schoolers they don't need to answer the big question yet, I heard from five of my clients. All navigating career transitions.

One young professional landed a sales role that checked every box on the list of non-negotiables they had written out months ago. Not because they chased it. Because they knew their baseline and held the line.

A seasoned professional jumped to a new gig in the hospitality industry while working remotely from another country. Aligned. Intentional. No panic.

And one consultant, who spent years urging others to use certain skills and tools, finally landed a job where they get to use them. Every day. It's working famously.

Two more are still in the hunt. Still holding out for alignment instead of settling.

Here's the truth: the question I was asked to answer for high schoolers is the same question my 30-, 40-, and 50-year-old clients are wrestling with.

What's next? What do I do? What's my purpose?

And the answer is the same.

Purpose is the best of what you have to give to others. It's not a job title. It's not a career. It's who you are, expressed through whatever vehicle or container you find yourself in.

You don't find it. You remember it.

And sometimes... you just need permission.

If you've been waiting for someone to tell you it's okay to try something new, experiment, change direction, or hold out for alignment...

This is your permission slip.

I have room for 5 people this month due to travel to take the Purpose Factor® Assessment and receive an AI-assisted personalized report plus a one-hour clarity call with me.

Here's what people are telling me after we meet:

"This connected a bunch of dots I've noticed for years. It made obvious what feels alive in my work and what I should hand off."

"It gave me language for what I've done for years. I build bridges."

"This was one of the most joyous days of my life."

This isn't hype. This is real clarity that leads to real decisions that leads to real fulfillment.

If you're tired of spinning on the question and ready to remember who you are, claim one of the 5 spots:

👉 bobregnerus.com/purpose

Until next week,

-Coach Reg

P.S. The discussion questions I gave the students sparked some of the best advisory group conversations they'd had all year. I'll leave them here for you: