My Truth About Purpose

July 4th, 2025 - This 4th of July feels different. Not because of fireworks or freedom—but because I just took a small, yet massive step forward. 

Before I sat down to write this, I officially closed on the very first property under Land Stream Capital, my business with my friend and partner, Josh Beauvais.

It’s not a home run—but it gets us on base and one step closer to a score. After months of planning, and pushing through doubt, I can finally say it:
I’m a land investor.

The first step of many to come.
And man, that feels good.

Now, let’s talk purpose.

The Question That Hit Me in the Heat

Wednesday morning. Eighty degrees before 8AM, humidity thick enough to suck through a twisty straw.

I was halfway through my workout, bear crawling up our driveway—palms grinding against the hot concrete, sweat pouring off me like I’d jumped in the lake between rounds. The heat bounced off the ground like a furnace.

And right there in the middle of it, this thought hit me:
Why am I doing this?

I used to have an answer, one that I wouldn’t have admitted back then, but now I can see the truth.

I wanted the lean look. A chiseled six-pack in my late 30’s. The likes. The dopamine of a shirtless post getting a comment or two.

I told myself it was to inspire people and maybe, for a few, it did—but mostly  was just the lie my ego was feeding me.

It felt good to be seen. To be validated. 

And in that moment Wednesday, it hit me. 

Back then, I worked out for my ego...and for them—whoever “they” were on the other side of the screen. Of course there were the physical and mental benefits as well. But for the most part it was ego. Vanity. And yeah, a little insecurity dressed up as discipline.

But now?
It’s different.

A Hike, a Mountain, and a Moment That Broke Me Open

Right after I asked myself that question Wednesday morning, a memory came flashing back. 

Big Bend National Park. Emory Peak. 2023.

Kallie and I facing a 5.2 mile (each way) hike, through the heart of 811,000 acres of raw, untouched wilderness. Sun blazing. No shade. People turning back halfway—worn out, unprepared, unhealthy and cooked by the heat. Sadly, this isn’t anything uncommon. 

Near the top, the trail disappeared. Kallie and I hit a 20-foot rock face. No ropes. No rails. Just us, our hands and feet and an 8,000 foot drop.

I hate heights. Every part of me wanted to stay put. But something deeper pulled me forward. I didn’t know what was at the top—but I knew if I didn’t climb, I may never get the chance again.

I swallowed my fears and started to scale up the rocks, trying not to soil myself along the way. 

At the summit, it was quiet. Not just the absence of noise—quiet. But completely still. Like the whole world had stopped.

The view was unlike anything I had experienced before in my life. The desert spread out endlessly in every direction. Not a single sign of humanity in sight.

I sat down to meditate, but instead, I got tears. Slow. Gentle. Like my body just needed to let something go—and that something, was the desire to feel significant.

I felt tiny. Like a speck. But that insignificance? It didn’t feel like most would expect. I wasn’t sad or let down.. I felt free. .

Up until then, I believed I mattered in the grand scheme of the world. I think many of us do. But that’s a lie. Another trick our egos try to play on us. The harsh truth is that most of us simply don’t. If we died, at any given moment, a tiny fraction of a fraction of the world would even notice.

Realizing that made me free. Free to focus on the people who actually matter. Free to move without fear. 

And in that moment, something else hit me. I felt a connection with God, or some higher power for the first time in my life. 

I looked out over the sprawling landscape and thought, How could all of this not be by design? It’s too perfect to be a happy little accident. There has to be something more to all of this. Something bigger that we cannot see, that up until that moment, I chose to ignore. 

Two truths in one mountain climb. Both incredibly freeing.

On the way back down, more people turned back—never making it to the top.

And I realized then a deeper reason behind why I train the way I do. Why I stay disciplined with my health, something more than ego or vanity.

Because I never want my own poor habits to keep me from experiencing life. Today, tomorrow or three decades from now. 

The Dip, the Walk, and the Wake-Up I Didn’t Expect

Back to this past Wednesday.

Later that day, I was on a call with my friend and mentor Jamie Gruber. He brought up The Dip by Seth Godin—how every meaningful path has its valleys. The places where things get hard. Where you either push through or pack it in.

And suddenly, I saw myself. All the dips I’ve hit. All the times I quit before I broke through. The possibility that I might be a serial quitter started to creep in.

But then I asked myself: Were they really dips? Or were they misaligned from the start?

The truth is, I didn’t know. Because I didn’t have a clear purpose. I didn’t know what I truly wanted out of life. So when things got hard, I had no compass. No filter. No vision strong enough to tell me, keep going or walk away.

That’s the tricky part about the dip.
No one’s happy in it. But without purpose, you can’t tell if you’re in a valley worth climbing out of—or just digging deeper into the wrong life.

Then Jamie played a clip where the speaker said:

“I believe it’s un-American to discover your purpose and not live it.”

Un-American? I don’t know. But it punched me in the gut.

Because looking back...I didn’t quit because I feared the work.
I quit because I didn’t know what I was working toward.

After that call with Jamie, I had a full schedule—but I went for a walk. No headphones. No podcast. No calls. Just me and my thoughts.

Something I used to do all the time...before I let “busy” take over.
Something I’ve now added back to my calendar—because I’ve learned that the things that look like breaks are often where real progress begins.

And on that walk, it all came together.

The Lie I Believed About Purpose

For years, I convinced myself that purpose had to be big.
A stage. A spotlight. A movement. A brand. 

I imagined thousands of people listening, clapping, being inspired. I told myself that was the dream.

But it wasn’t purpose—not for me.

It was ego in disguise. Fed by people telling me to think bigger, reach higher, aim for the moon. They all meant well of course but my ego took their words and ran with them. 

And every time I thought about chasing it, I never got past the point of motivation. Not because I feared the work—but because I feared that I was working towards something that wasn’t truly for me. 

But now?
I realize big is different for each of us. 

What I See Now

When I close my eyes—when I sit still long enough to truly listen and let my mind roam free, when I’m able to relinquish control of my thoughts—I don’t see a stage, a microphone or a movement. 

I see unhurried mornings on a quiet lake in Tennessee. A mug full of coffee. Bare feet on damp wood. Me, Kallie, and the kids lined up with fishing rods—learning how to catch our own food. Not just for sport, but as a lesson in patience, skill, and gratitude.

We reel one in, break out the phone, and turn it into a quick science lesson. No whiteboard needed.

Later, it’s all fun. The pontoon’s loaded up. Snacks, sunscreen, music. The kids launch cannonballs off the side, laughter echoing off the trees. Kallie leans back in the sun, smiling that quiet smile that says: This is it.

I see us at a beach house in North Carolina every Fourth of July. Sand everywhere. Fireworks cracking overhead. Half-eaten watermelon on the porch. Barefoot cousins chasing each other around the beach. Splashing in the waves. Everyone under one roof. Full. Together.

Free from the concern of money that so often plagued us in the early years.

I see creativity in the everyday—building forts, living on imagination and curiosity, cooking over open flames. Homeschooling not from a textbook, but through life. Adventures. Questions. Curiosity that never gets crushed by a bell schedule.

And I see love. Real, rooted love.

Abundance not in stuff, but in space and time.
Simplicity not as sacrifice—but as freedom.
Purpose not as pressure—but as desire.

That’s my why.

It’s why I train the way I do.
Why I fuel my body with intention.
Why I invest in myself.
Why I surround myself with likeminded people.
Why I wake up at 4am and practice my morning routine.
Why I chase financial freedom like my life depends on it.
Why I refuse to let anything—or anyone—stand in the way of my vision.

The Answer That Found Me

So yeah, purpose has been on my mind.

Not because I’m still searching for it. But because I feel like I’ve finally found it…for now at least. 

I used to chase motivation. I’d hit the dip and bail.

But now I no longer run away from hard.

A few weeks ago, I hit the first real dip in our land business. Old me would’ve pivoted—found something shinier. Seemingly easier.

But this time?
I doubled down. I started saying “no” to guaranteed money so I could say “yes” to future wealth.

Because now purpose is pulling me forward through the dip. 

Not followers. Not a flashy exit. Not ego.

It’s for the lake. The fireworks. The fishing. The family. The friends.

It’s for a life filled with unhurried days and unforgettable experiences.

A life that I’ll look back on and think:
Damn...what a ride.

That’s purpose.

And when you find it?
You face the dip, double down, embrace the journey, push through—and reap the rewards.

My Purpose Statement

To experience as much life as possible with the people I love most.
My family. My closest friends.
Simple. Small to some. Perfect for me. 

As always, thanks for reading,
Kyle

This Week’s Song:
Spotless – Zach Bryan
This one’s been on repeat. It’s gritty and reflective, with just enough edge to cut through the noise. There’s a line in the chorus—“I’m a little more rough than I planned to be”—that just nails it. Feels like a reminder that you don’t need to be perfect to be purposeful. You just need to keep showing up.