When I got my first full-time UK job, I did what many photography enthusiasts do - I bought a Canon 5D Mark III. It was my new toy, my prize for landing that job. I was excited about the technical specs, the manual settings, the professional feel of it in my hands.
But something was missing.
The Empty Feeling of Solo Photography
I'd take my camera out for walks, wandering around looking for interesting shots. I learned about aperture, shutter speed, ISO - all the technical aspects. I captured landscapes, buildings, street scenes. The photos were technically fine, maybe even good.
But when I came home and looked through them, I felt... empty. There was no connection, no spark. These photos meant nothing to me beyond being exercises in composition and exposure.
The Thursday Night Discovery
On the side, I play accordion. Every Thursday, I go to this pub where there's a jam session. These people became my friends - not just acquaintances, but people I genuinely cared about.
One night, I brought my camera. Not for any grand purpose, just to capture my friends doing what they love. I volunteered to be their photographer - unpaid, unofficial, just someone with a camera who wanted to help.
And that's when everything clicked.
The Joy of Service Through Photography
Taking photos of my friends performing transformed photography for me. Suddenly, every shot had purpose:
- Musicians could use these photos for their profiles
- Bands had content for promoting gigs
- People had memories of nights when they felt truly alive making music
What seemed like a small gesture - a minor inconvenience for me - had real value for them. And their joy became my joy. Their gratitude fueled my passion.
I finally understood: I don't love photography. I love event photography. I love capturing people in their element, serving them through my lens.
The Pattern of Purpose
This wasn't my first time discovering this pattern. Years ago, I fell in love with paddleboarding. But it wasn't enough to just enjoy it myself. I kept thinking: "How can more people experience this? How can this bring joy to others?"
So I started a tourism company focused on paddleboarding experiences. Not because I wanted to become super fit or master the sport, but because I wanted to share that feeling of gliding across the water, that perfect blend of exercise and peace.
The Tool Doesn't Matter - The Service Does
Here's what I've learned: Every tool, every skill, every new technology is only as valuable as its ability to serve others.
Whether it's:
- A camera capturing someone's best moment
- Code solving someone's problem
- ChatGPT helping someone communicate better
- A paddleboard giving someone their first taste of adventure
The tool itself doesn't bring fulfillment. The service does.
My Framework for Finding Purpose
Now, whenever I encounter something new - the latest AI tool, a new programming language, any "shiny object" - I ask myself:
- Who can this help?
- What problem does it solve for them?
- How can I use this to bring joy or value to others?
If I can't answer these questions, I move on. Life's too short to master tools that don't help me serve.
The Small Things Matter
You don't need to start a company or launch a grand project. Sometimes the greatest service comes from the smallest gestures:
- Taking photos at a friend's gig
- Teaching someone a new skill
- Automating a tedious task for a colleague
- Simply being present with your tools when someone needs them
The key is to shift your focus from "What can I do with this?" to "What can I do for others with this?"
That shift changes everything.