Or: I Can’t Get a Dog Because Stella Said No – So What Exactly Is the Point Then?)
Here we are. Week 8. The grand finale. The last reflective sigh before I vanish for a while and quietly forget how to log in to my blog dashboard.
We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?
- Mindfulness (Week 1)
- To-do lists and their tyranny (Week 2)
- The peace of solitude (Week 3)
- Breathing like we mean it (Week 4)
- Destroying the myth of balance (Week 5)
- Doing gloriously nothing (Week 6)
- And building a memory bank from emotional scraps and stolen döner (Week 7)
And it all culminates here. Not with a bang. Not with a TED Talk. Not with a puppy in a bow tie.
But with a question:
What’s the bloody point?
Let’s Go Full Existential (But Make it Neuroscientific)
You see, “what’s the point?” isn’t just a cry heard at 3am after a bottle of Rioja and a broken printer. It’s a legitimate neurological dilemma.
According to Viktor Frankl (Austrian psychiatrist, Holocaust survivor, and not a man who ever forgot his shopping list), humans are driven by a search for meaning. It’s not pleasure. It’s not even success. It’s meaning that keeps us moving.
But here’s the twist:
The brain isn’t looking for one grand life purpose carved into a mountaintop.
It’s looking for small signals of significance—tiny glimmers that say:
“This mattered.”
“You made a difference.”
“You were here, and it meant something to someone. Even if it was just the dog you don’t have.”
The Neuroscience of Meaning (and Why You Still Feel Weird on a Tuesday)
Your brain has a few key chemicals that shout “POINT!” whenever something feels worthwhile.
1. Dopamine – The motivation molecule.
Lights up when you feel progress, not just achievement. That’s why crossing something off your to-do list feels like you’ve conquered Everest, even if it was just “buy bin bags.”
2. Oxytocin – The connection hormone.
Gets released during shared experience, kindness, eye contact, and when someone lets you merge in traffic without being a knob.
3. Serotonin – The status and significance chemical.
Surges when you feel respected, valued, or like you’ve said something clever in a meeting and nobody immediately moved on.
Meaning, from a neurological perspective, is built on progress, connection, and significance. Not on writing a book, saving the whales, or winning the LinkedIn Thought Leader of the Year Award (which, if it exists, shouldn’t).
So… What’s the Point?
Here’s what it’s not:
- It’s not a five-year plan.
- It’s not a job title.
- It’s not whether you’ve “found your why” (I still haven’t found mine, but I suspect it’s in a drawer with some old AA batteries and a spatula I’ve never used).
The point, I now realise after eight weeks of overthinking and blogging, is cumulative. It’s layered.
It’s not one big decision.
It’s the collection of small ones:
- Choosing to pause before replying.
- Looking up from your screen when someone walks in the room.
- Laughing, out loud, at something no one else noticed.
- Noticing the taste of your toast.
- Holding someone’s gaze for one second longer than necessary just to make them feel seen.
- Letting yourself sit and think about dogs even when you’ve been expressly forbidden to get one.
And About the Dog
Yes, I still don’t have a dog.
Because Stella said no.
And if you’ve ever loved someone long enough to trust their veto power, you’ll understand.
Apparently, I’m too busy.
Apparently, I’m too emotionally attached to the idea of the dog rather than the reality of poo bags and vet bills.
Apparently, I’m “romanticising the animal as a metaphor for unmet emotional needs.”
(That last one felt pointed.)
But here’s the twist: the dog was never the point.
It was a stand-in.
A soft, furry placeholder for all the things I wanted more of:
- Presence
- Connection
- Play
- Slowness
- Loyalty
- Someone to look at me in the mornings like I’m the sun and the moon and not just a man who talks too much about brain chemicals
I don’t need a dog to feel those things.
I just need to keep choosing moments that matter.
Let’s Talk About Little-p Purpose
Not Purpose™, the branded, polished kind you put on a slide deck or on your LinkedIn header.
But purpose-with-a-small-p:
- Making someone laugh when they didn’t know they needed it.
- Giving your full attention to someone, just because you can.
- Writing a blog that doesn’t save the world but might save someone’s Tuesday.
- Remembering that being useful is good, but being present is better.
That’s purpose.
Small. Quiet. Repeated often.
Let’s End Where We Began
I began this series with a confession: I’m a man who teaches mindfulness, yet still gets overwhelmed by life.
Still avoids hard tasks.
Still argues with inanimate objects.
Still thinks about things far too deeply while looking like I’m deciding between two brands of hummus in Waitrose.
Now, I end it with a simple truth:
I don’t need a grand narrative.
I don’t need a TED Talk.
I don’t need a dog (though I’ll keep gently lobbying).
What I need—and maybe what we all need—is this:
To know that how we live the ordinary days is the point.
The moments you don’t Instagram.
The conversations that don’t have a “key takeaway.”
The laughter that wasn’t on the agenda.
The blog that doesn’t go viral but makes someone feel slightly less alone.
That’s it.
So, What Now?
Now… you go live your little-p purpose.
Choose a moment. Make it count.
Breathe. Rest. Loaf. Laugh.
And if a dog steals your kebab in Istanbul—remember it forever.
I’ll be here. Not writing for a while. Probably walking around a park holding an invisible lead, hoping no one asks questions.
Thank you for reading.
This meant something.
Back (eventually),
Steve
