Introduction: Flow, Schmow
Once upon a time, in the dimly lit yoga studios and productivity blogs of the mid-2000s, everyone was obsessed with flow. Flow was the holy grail: that sweet spot where you were so into your work that you forgot to pee for six hours, your emails piled up like corpses in a zombie movie, and your Fitbit thought you were dead because you hadn’t moved.
People quoted Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi like he was Moses with a MacBook. Flow was the spiritual protein shake of the Silicon Valley hustle cult. You weren’t living unless you were “in flow.”
But times change. Flow is now so 2010. Enter: purpose.
Today’s gurus, influencers, and workplace consultants are shoving “purpose” down our throats like kale smoothies at a tech offsite. Flow is passé, darling. Purpose is the new black, the new Bitcoin (pre-crash), the new avocado toast. Purpose is the thing that’s supposed to get you out of bed when coffee and fear of unemployment no longer cut it.
Unfortunately, like most shiny new buzzwords, purpose is just flow with a facelift and a TED Talk.
Section 1: Flow Was Too Honest
Here’s the thing about flow: it was practical. You get absorbed, lose track of time, and crank out work. But flow had one big flaw—it didn’t sound deep enough.
Bosses loved it because you were basically doing unpaid overtime while calling it transcendence. But for the influencer-industrial complex? Flow lacked gravitas. It wasn’t Instagrammable enough. “I was in flow” doesn’t look good under a photo of you in Bali pretending to meditate.
Purpose, on the other hand, has gravitas dripping out of its ears. Purpose sounds like you’re aligned with the stars, destiny, and a three-part Netflix docuseries narrated by Morgan Freeman. It’s not just working hard—it’s working hard for something bigger than yourself. Like disrupting sandwich delivery, or optimizing ad clicks, or designing AI that writes blogs exactly like this one.
Section 2: Purpose Is Flow With PR
Let’s be honest: purpose is just flow with a PR agent. It’s flow that took a personal branding course. It’s flow that wears an expensive minimalist watch and uses phrases like “authentic alignment.”
Flow: “I forgot to eat because I was coding.”
Purpose: “My work nourishes my soul and feeds the global community.”
Same thing. Except one of them makes you sound like an ascetic monk saving the world, and the other makes you sound like a basement-dwelling nerd. Guess which one HR wants you to say in your quarterly review?
Section 3: The Cult of Purpose
The cult of flow was about you. The cult of purpose is about us. Or rather, it’s about making your individual hamster wheel spin in a way that looks like it’s powering the village.
Purpose is the secret sauce corporations use to convince you that selling cloud-based staplers is a moral mission. It’s the sugar coating on the corporate cyanide pill. “Don’t think of it as maximizing shareholder value—think of it as saving the planet, one stapler subscription at a time.”
Purpose is flow with moral outsourcing. You’re not just productive—you’re a saint with a Slack account.
Section 4: Purpose as Therapy
When flow wasn’t working, people turned to therapy. When therapy wasn’t enough, they turned to self-help books. When self-help books weren’t enough, they turned to psychedelics. And when psychedelics weren’t enough, they discovered purpose.
Purpose is the dopamine drip that tells you you’re not wasting your one and only life on PowerPoint decks about “synergy.” You’re contributing. You’re making an impact. You’re not selling shoes—you’re giving the world the gift of confident footsteps.
Purpose is the placebo we take so we don’t riot in the streets.
Section 5: Purpose Is the New MLM
Flow was personal. You could have flow doing sudoku alone in a basement. Purpose requires an audience.
Purpose is inherently shareable. It’s not real until you’ve posted it on LinkedIn under a black-and-white headshot with the caption: “Honored to be living my purpose every day.”
It’s basically the MLM of emotions. You don’t just find purpose—you recruit others into your pyramid of meaning. And the higher up you go, the more insufferable you become.
Section 6: The Corporate Co-Opting of Purpose
Corporations love purpose because it’s cheap. Flow required decent conditions: quiet, autonomy, maybe even fair pay. Purpose just requires a slogan.
That’s why every Fortune 500 company now has a Purpose Statement that reads like a horoscope written by ChatGPT on mushrooms:
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“At TacoTech, our purpose is to empower communities through artisanal burrito experiences.”
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“At CloudDesk, we exist to revolutionize the intersection of productivity and compassion.”
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“At EcoBank, our purpose is to enable dreams sustainably, one overdraft fee at a time.”
Flow made you lose track of time. Purpose makes you lose track of the fact that you’re underpaid.
Section 7: Flow Felt Good, Purpose Feels Obligatory
Flow was a personal high. It was like catching a wave or nailing a joke. Purpose, though, is homework. It’s the adult version of writing “What I Want to Be When I Grow Up” essays.
The worst part? Purpose is policed. Don’t have one? Congratulations, you’re a failure. Have the wrong one? Congratulations, you’re canceled. Change your purpose too often? Congratulations, you’re a flaky millennial stereotype.
Purpose is less about what lights you up and more about what makes others clap for you. It’s not joy—it’s a performance review dressed as a spiritual awakening.
Section 8: The Toxicity of “Find Your Purpose”
Nothing is more anxiety-inducing than being told you need a purpose. Suddenly your hobbies aren’t enough. Your career isn’t enough. Your relationships aren’t enough. You need a capital-P Purpose.
And if you don’t have one? You’re defective. You’re purposeless. You’re driftwood in the ocean of hustle culture.
Here’s the truth: some people don’t have a purpose, and that’s fine. Some people’s purpose is to binge Netflix, eat cheese, and die peacefully. Not everyone needs to be the Dalai Lama with a startup.
Section 9: Purpose as Luxury Good
Purpose is expensive. You can’t talk about it if you’re working three jobs to pay rent. Purpose is for people with enough money to afford therapy, coaching, retreats, and artisanal journals.
Flow was egalitarian—you could hit it digging ditches or playing Tetris. Purpose is elitist. It’s the Birkin bag of human motivation.
Purpose is what happens when you’re rich enough to wonder, “What does it all mean?” instead of “How do I eat tonight?”
Section 10: The Snarky Conclusion
So yes, purpose is the new flow. But don’t be fooled. Flow was about feeling alive. Purpose is about looking alive on social media. Flow was messy and honest. Purpose is manicured and monetized.
If flow was jazz, purpose is a corporate jingle. If flow was sex, purpose is a TED Talk about sex. If flow was living, purpose is branding your life so it sells.
So go ahead. Find your purpose. Announce it on LinkedIn. Get your coworkers to clap. Just know that when the dopamine fades, the truth remains: sometimes you’re just another hamster on the wheel, spinning in perfect alignment with your “authentic impact.”
And honestly? That’s okay. Just don’t make the rest of us clap for it.