One of the most challenging things people struggle with is finding their purpose. I know because I’ve been there, tangled up in a thousand threads, unsure which one to pull.
Growing up, I always knew one thing for sure: I loved
people. I wanted to help, to make a difference. But the “how” was never
clear. The paths before me looked like balls of yarn — messy, twisted,
impossible to unravel.
Still, I told myself, “Edwin, just do your best. Prove
you’re good enough.” And so I did.
Some things I excelled at. Others — well, let’s just say
they were painful lessons in humility. Coding, for instance. My relationship
with code began in 1997, when high school me tried to convince himself that
Pascal and C++ were his destiny. They weren’t. I struggled, resented it, and at
some point, believed that anything I wasn’t naturally good at wasn’t meant for
me.
But life, as it turns out, had other plans.
I later realized that those “unwanted” experiences weren’t
detours — they were doorways. Coding led me to networking, which opened up
information security, eventually guiding me to consulting rooms filled with
CEOs and corporate giants. Yet even in those rooms, dressed in confidence and
competence, something inside whispered: “This isn’t it.”
I had the success, but not the satisfaction. I was busy,
but not becoming. And then, quietly, something changed my life forever —
a small, simple habit: reading.
The First Door — Reading: When Books Become Mirrors
Reading didn’t just make me smarter — it made me see. It
opened up worlds within me I didn’t know existed. It was through reading that I
began to understand my own story and recognize that purpose isn’t discovered
overnight — it’s revealed through growth, reflection, and
transformation.
Think about it. Abraham Lincoln had less than a year of
formal education, yet he became one of the greatest leaders in history — not
through privilege, but through pages. He would walk for miles to borrow books,
reading by candlelight after long days of farm work. The Bible, Aesop’s Fables,
and Shakespeare — they didn’t just educate him; they shaped his moral compass
and clarity of thought.
Or Frederick Douglass — enslaved, forbidden to read, but
determined to. When he finally did, his chains were broken long before his body
was free. “Once you learn to read,” he said, “you will be forever free.”
And Gandhi — his transformation began not on the streets,
but in study rooms. The Bhagavad Gita, the Bible, Tolstoy, Thoreau — these
books refined his spirit, molding him into a force of peace and principle.
Even Mandela turned his prison cell into a university. For
27 years, he read law, philosophy, and leadership texts — transforming pain
into patience, and confinement into clarity.
For me, reading became my lifelong classroom. It shaped my
understanding of purpose, leadership, and the human heart.
Reading renews the mind and refines the heart, even
in the midst of obscurity. So, if you want your purpose to become clearer,
start there. Read.
The Second Door — Self-Awareness: The Mirror You Keep
Avoiding
Reading opened my eyes to the world. Self-awareness opened
my eyes to myself.
And that, my friend, was terrifying.
You see, in my 20s, I thought I had life figured out. I had
the titles, the successes, and the applause — but inside, I had a ruthless
critic who couldn’t let me breathe. I didn’t like who I was becoming.
It wasn’t until I became a father that I saw the reflection
clearly. Children have a way of holding up mirrors we can’t escape. In their
eyes, I saw my impatience, my pride, and the control I was desperately trying
to hold on to.
I wore confidence like armor; decisive, untouchable,
self-assured. But beneath it was fear: fear of being wrong, fear of being
small, fear of losing control.
That, my friend, was pride. And pride, as I learned, is the
ego’s favorite disguise. Negative feedback used to crush me. If someone said,
“Edwin, you could do better,” I would hear, “You are not enough.” I’d
overwork to fix it, overcompensate to be seen as perfect.
But here’s the truth: Growth often comes dressed as
correction.
In my 30s, life stripped away my illusions. My father’s
death, business failure, debt, and even a broken marriage. These were the blows
that shattered the old me. I stopped running. I sat in the rubble and finally
began the hardest project of all — myself.
Self-awareness isn’t about perfection. It’s about peeling
back the layers of fear, pride, and false identity until what’s left is real.
It’s looking at your emotional
baggage and asking, “Why am I still carrying this?”
It’s realizing that your beliefs — even the ones you inherited — may no longer
serve you.
It’s learning to pause, to listen, to forgive.
Because self-awareness isn’t a mirror that condemns;
it’s a window that frees.
The Third Door — Forgiveness: The Art of Unburdening the
Soul
The journey of discovering purpose, I’ve learned, is really
a journey of forgiveness. Forgiveness of others, yes — but even more
importantly, forgiveness of self. When we hold on to bitterness, guilt,
or resentment, our soul becomes heavy. It’s like trying to run with rocks in
your backpack. The longer you carry them, the more exhausted you become.
Forgiveness lightens the load. It restores self-esteem and
gives you back the strength to walk forward. I’ve seen it in my own life. My most
significant breakthroughs didn’t come from achievements or success — they came
from releasing what was choking my heart.
Forgiveness doesn’t always start with grand gestures.
Sometimes it begins with the small stuff: forgiving someone for a harsh word, a
missed promise, or your own small mistakes.
There’s a story in the Bible of a man whose enormous debt
was forgiven, yet he refused to forgive a smaller one. How often are we like
him — grateful for grace but stingy in giving it?
Forgiveness begins when we recognize that hurt people
hurt people — and that even those who’ve wronged us carry their own wounds.
Imagine the person who hurt you most as a child.
Innocent. Afraid. Needing love. Would you still hold on to the same anger? When
you forgive, you don’t excuse the pain — you transform it. You reclaim your
power.
Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, who
survived the Holocaust, said it best:
“In some way, suffering ceases
to be suffering at the moment it finds meaning.”
Pain refines us. It strips away illusions and reveals what
truly matters. Every scar, every setback, every tear has the potential to be
sacred — if you let it teach you.
Forgiveness, then, is not weakness. It’s strength under
control. It’s courage dressed as compassion. It’s saying, “I will not be
defined by what broke me.”
And that’s where your purpose begins to shine through.
The Invitation — Your Purpose Is Waiting
If you’ve been searching for clarity — trying to make sense
of your path, your pain, or your purpose — I understand. I’ve been there.
I know what it’s like to chase success but feel empty.
To wear a confident smile while quietly battling self-doubt.
To wonder if all your effort is leading anywhere at all.
But here’s what I’ve discovered — purpose isn’t found in
noise or hustle. It’s found in stillness, reflection, and grace.
When you read, you expand your mind.
When you grow self-aware, you heal your identity.
When you forgive, you set your soul free.
That’s the path I help people walk through in my personal
coaching program. It’s not a quick fix. It’s a guided journey — through
reflection, habits, and healing — designed to help you become who you were
truly meant to be. So, if your soul feels restless, if you sense there’s more
to life than what you’ve been living — maybe it’s time.
Join me. Let’s
find your purpose together. (+254724328059)
Because you were never meant to survive life — you were meant to live it on
purpose.
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