The long search
Several years ago, I read Start With Why by Simon Sinek. The idea seemed straightforward: every person and organisation should know the reason that drives what they do. I thought my answer would be obvious, after all, I had chosen an academic career out of interest and commitment. Yet when I asked myself directly, Why do I do what I do?, I could not find a clear reply.
The question stayed with me for months. I reflected on it during experiments, lectures, and quiet weekends. I realised how often I focused on what I was doing or how I was doing it, but rarely on why. It was an uncomfortable but revealing process, like holding a mirror to one’s motivations and noticing how they shift over time.
Defining my why
Eventually, the answer emerged with simplicity after reading another book: Why? What makes us curious by Mario Livio. I found out I am guided by curiosity, the curiosity of creating and spreading knowledge.
This sentence changed how I see my work. Curiosity is what drives me to enter the laboratory in the morning, keeps me observing wood structures under the microscope, and compels me to explain my discoveries to students or readers. Creating knowledge and sharing it are inseparable; discovery gains meaning only when communicated.
Recognising this “why” has acted as a quiet compass. It helps me decide which projects to pursue, which collaborations to accept, and even how to approach setbacks. When an activity feeds curiosity and enables knowledge to flow outward, it feels aligned. When it does not, it drains energy quickly.
Purpose as orientation, not destination
Having a “why” does not mean possessing a fixed goal. It is more like a direction of travel. The curiosity that guides me today may take different forms tomorrow, but the underlying purpose remains constant.
Academic life often demands measurable outcomes: papers, grants, evaluations. Yet these metrics alone do not sustain motivation. Purpose does. It transforms routine into learning and pressure into perspective. Without it, the risk is that one might achieve much while feeling detached from the meaning of the work.
An invitation to reflect
I would encourage everyone in research to spend time looking for their own “why.” It may take patience and honesty, but the clarity it brings is worth the effort. It reconnects professional life to personal values and reminds us that science, at its core, is an expression of curiosity shared among people.
Finding your “why” does not change what you do: it changes how you see it. For me, it turned a career into a calling, and routine into discovery.