When you’ve done the same job for decades, something interesting can happen.

You stop paying close attention to what you love about it.

You get used to the parts of yourself that show up every day. The parts that solve problems, manage responsibilities, help people, and keep things moving forward. Over time those parts become automatic. You know how to do the job. You know how to show up.

You become comfortable.

And there is nothing wrong with comfort. Stability and experience are good things. There is something deeply satisfying about knowing your work and feeling confident in what you bring to the table.

But every once in a while, a quiet question sneaks in.

Am I missing something?

Not because the work is wrong. Not because the path you chose was a mistake. But because when we spend a long time doing something well, we sometimes stop noticing the parts that truly energize us.

We stop asking ourselves what we actually love about what we do.

Instead, we move through the rhythm of what we already know.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about a quote from theologian and civil rights leader Howard Thurman:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

It’s a powerful idea.

For many of us—especially those of us who try to be responsible and make practical decisions—we spend most of our lives asking different questions.

What’s practical?
What’s responsible?
What makes sense?

Those questions help us build stable lives. They help us support the people around us. They help us move forward in ways that feel smart and safe.

But Thurman’s words invite a different kind of reflection.

What makes you come alive?

Not just what you’re good at.
Not just what you’ve always done.
Not just what seems most practical.

What actually energizes you?

And once you start asking that question, another one often follows right behind it:

Do I have to turn my life upside down to find out?

Most of the time, the answer is no.

Often the first step isn’t dramatic change—it’s curiosity.

This is one of the reasons coaching can be so powerful.

Coaching creates space to slow down and ask questions we don’t always give ourselves time to consider. It helps us notice patterns, assumptions, and stories we’ve been telling ourselves for years.

Sometimes the work isn’t about changing everything. Sometimes it’s about reconnecting with parts of ourselves that have been quietly waiting for attention.

The parts that are curious.
Creative.
Energized by new ideas.

When we begin to notice those things again, something shifts. We start to see possibilities we may have overlooked before.

And often, that’s where the feeling of coming alive begins.

Not necessarily in a dramatic reinvention of our lives.

But in the willingness to pause, reflect, and ask a simple question:

What makes me come alive?