Is there a place for purpose in a post-growth world?

Reclaiming purpose beyond productivity, ambition and scale.

Oh, the hours we can pass, fully present, toes in the sand, no agenda but to be.

If you’ve been on Substack Notes recently, you might have seen me grappling with this question and inviting others into the reflection.

Is there a place for purpose in a post-growth world – and if so, what does that purpose look like when we no longer measure success in scale, speed, or visibility?

In modern culture, purpose is often tangled up with productivity and endless growth. We're told our worth depends on constantly achieving more. But what happens to purpose if we abandon the growth-at-all-costs mindset? Post-growth thinking, whether in economics or lifestyle, offers another path: one of enoughness, care, and balance rather than perpetual expansion. As economist Tim Jackson notes, "without care we are nothing... Without care there is no economy". Far from making life meaningless, a post-growth turn could free us to pursue deeper meaning beyond the metrics.

This essay grew out of weeks of sitting with these questions. I offer it in case you’re navigating something similar, or sensing that your old definitions of purpose no longer fit. I explore how we might reclaim purpose in a post-growth world, drawing on history, Eastern philosophy and even astrology to reimagine work and livelihood. I ask: what did purpose look like before capitalism, and what might it look like after? I reflect on the idea of dharma (sacred duty), the path of mission-led entrepreneurs like Tami Simon, and the symbolism of Saturn in my birth chart as it relates to vocation. In a world no longer obsessed with growth, I wonder if a deeper sense of purpose, one rooted in service, community, and soul, could finally have space to thrive.

The Pre-History of Purpose: Work Before Capitalism

Purpose in a pre-capitalist context looked very different from today. Work was not about personal ambition or endless expansion, but part of ritual, service, and survival within a community. For Indigenous and agrarian peoples, roles like farmer, healer, or craftsperson were often seen as sacred callings tied to the cycles of nature and lineage. In medieval Europe, for example, a cobbler or midwife fulfilled a vocation passed down through guild or tradition, valued for its service to the community.

All this began to unravel with the rise of capitalist economies. The enclosure of commons and the industrial revolution uprooted people from land and communal rhythms. Work became something done under a clock for wages, often alienated from its results. Historian Silvia Federici argues that this transition was brutally enforced – especially for women. The witch-hunts of the 16th–17th centuries terrorised women healers, midwives, and independent single women because they embodied everything “capitalism had to destroy” – communal knowledge, reproductive autonomy, resistance to authority. In the new order, women were confined to unpaid domestic labor to support a male workforce, and even the human body was harnessed as “the first machine invented by capitalism”. In essence, practices that once gave people identity and purpose were either monetised, marginalised, or wiped out.

Thinkers like Ivan Illich observed that modern industrial society turned people into “mere consumers” rather than empowered participants. He advocated for tools and institutions that put human agency first – giving people tools to work with that foster independence and creativity, instead of machines that dictate how we live. Likewise, author Francis Weller notes in his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow that we have lost the “primary satisfactions” of living, what he calls the “commons of the soul”: the shared meals, dances, and rituals that nourished us, replaced by endless pursuits of wealth and status. This leaves a void: an anxious hunger that mere economic growth can never fill. Reclaiming purpose may therefore start with remembering these older ways of belonging and contributing, reviving the notion that work can be an expression of community care and connection, not just a hustle to the top.

Dharma: Sacred Work in a Fractured World

Dharma is a Sanskrit term meaning one’s sacred duty or true path. Unlike the Western notion of a career (often pursued for external validation or individual success), dharma is about inner alignment. It asks: what is the work that only you can do, the calling you must honour to not betray your own soul? Stephen Cope, author of The Great Work of Your Life, suggests framing it this way: “What is it that, if you do not do it, you will feel a profound sense of self-betrayal?”. That question shifts purpose from a goal you achieve to a truth you live. Your duty is to show up fully for that unique calling, regardless of how grand or how humble it looks to others.

In contrast, modern society often equates purpose with a “dream job” or a hustle that leads to fame and notoriety. But chasing someone else’s idea of success can lead to emptiness, un-fulfillment, even grief. The dharmic approach tells us that meaning is found not in what we attain but how we devote ourselves. For instance, an artist might never be famous, yet creating art daily with love could be their dharma – and it’s no less valid than a CEO’s path.

Tami Simon, an entrepreneur in the spiritual publishing field, offers a living example of dharma at work. She built her company (Sounds True) over the last 36+ years with the explicit intention to serve spiritual awakening rather than to maximise growth. Simon speaks of each person’s “soul force” – an inner power formed by our deepest cares and uniqueness – and she insists that if we want true fulfillment in work, we must engage that soul force and put it in service. In other words, bring your whole self and heart into what you do. That mindset naturally prioritises integrity and contribution over ego or profit.

I was so grateful to stumble across Tami’s take on this, which came to me the way I receive many important and timely messages: via my Spotify podcast algorithm. I’m already a regular listener of Sounds True, but it was in an interview with her on another podcast, The Weekend University, that I discovered what she had to say on this topic. She also speaks powerfully to the spiritual ethics of business. She mentions the Bodhisattva vow – a Mahāyāna Buddhist commitment to relieve suffering and do no harm – as a compass for how she runs her company. This doesn't mean rejecting money or pretending we don’t need to earn. It means earning in ways that serve, that uplift, that are non-extractive. When you commit to doing no harm, business can become a site of conscious relationship, not unconscious accumulation.

She also challenges the limiting belief that “if I earn more, someone else has less” – likening money to a pie to be divided up, as if it’s fixed and finite. But in reality, she says, money is a current (as in currency), something that can flow, circulate, nourish. Generating income from aligned service doesn't inherently deprive others – especially when it's reinvested ethically. Of course, concentrating extreme wealth in the hands of the few does cause harm. But that’s not the same as believing that simply earning well for meaningful work is itself greedy. That belief, she suggests, keeps healers, artists, and change-makers under-resourced – and ultimately, less able to serve.

Jess Serrante

, a student of Joanna Macy (who is currently in hospice care), recently shared a beautiful and timely anecdote from their time together. Joanna’s life and work have shaped a generation of activists, ecophilosophers, and seekers, and her influence is being amplified in these tender days of her transition.

Jess recalls speaking to Joanna during a moment of doubt, struggling to accept praise for their joint podcast We Are The Great Turning. Overwhelmed by imposter syndrome, she confessed her discomfort. Joanna’s response was characteristically clear: “Jess, your only job is to take all of the power or influence that folks might want to give you and use it in service of the Great Turning.”

When I read that line, it was like the final piece of the puzzle fell in place. In her fiercely compassionate way, Joanna was saying: let go of self-doubt. Don’t cling to your smallness. You are needed. Be big. Not for ego, but for the sake of what matters most.

This, too, is dharma. Not the pursuit of significance, but the acceptance of it when it comes, and the commitment to use it well. Many of us (especially those socialised into humility, or shame) fear taking up too much space or losing touch with our good intentions. But as Jess writes, “This time, when the world is burning, is no time for us to choose smallness.” If we’re given energy, love, resources, or recognition, the dharmic path asks that we channel it into service and into something regenerative.

Lessons from Saturn in the 10th House

My very wise bestie

Georgia Mellor

reminded me last weekend of my Saturn placement in the 10th house (which she also shares). In astrology, Saturn governs hard lessons, structure, and karma. Having it sit in the house of career and public life explains a lot about my long, tangled relationship with ambition. I’ve always been bright and bookish, but also chaotic, impulsive, and at times deeply self-sabotaging. I made a lot of messy choices in my teens and early twenties: terrible with money, emotional to the point of collapse, unable to hold much structure. And I carried a crushing shame about it. I felt like I had to redeem the wreckage, prove to the people around me (and maybe to myself) that there was some grand purpose in the pain. That if I could just channel it all into a career that meant something, the detours would somehow be justified. A kind of messianic mission, if I’m honest, complete with a not-so-subtle redemption arc.

For a long time, Saturn’s influence felt like pressure: achieve or be nothing. Get it right or disappear. But with age (and therapy, and insight), I’m starting to hear a deeper message. Saturn doesn’t demand success in the eyes of the world – it asks for integrity. It wants maturity, longevity, and grounded contribution. It asks us to transmute ambition into responsibility, and to measure success not by recognition, but by the quality of our commitment. Sometimes the real work is invisible to others like holding a family together, or quietly mastering a craft (shoutout to my husband 👀) and that is no less worthy. I’m learning to honour that. These days, I’m trying to focus less on being impressive and more on being consistent – showing up, doing the work, offering something of value, even if only a few people benefit.

Fittingly (or algorithmically), the same day Georgia and I had this conversation, she was fed a TikTok on exactly this and sent it to me. Saturn's nothing if not precise.

What If Business Isn’t About Growth?

Business as we know it is dominated by a 'grow or die' mentality. But what if an enterprise could thrive without constantly scaling up? In a post-growth economy, businesses can pursue depth and quality rather than endless expansion. The publishing company Sounds True is a case in point. Founded on a spiritual mission, it became successful (through long, committed, sustained growth over the course of Tami’s entire adult life) while explicitly rejecting the usual growth-at-any-cost playbook. In fact, Sounds True was one of the first companies to institute multiple bottom lines from the start – measuring success not just in profit, but in how well it served its employees, community, and purpose. It "expanded steadily over the years while staying true to its original mission". This shows it’s possible to run a financially viable company that puts mission and people first, not just growth.

In a post-growth world, we would likely see many more small, community-oriented businesses rather than a few giant corporations. Think of cooperative farms, local repair shops, or ethical studios that deliberately stay human-scaled. Their goals are providing good livelihoods and useful goods or services while regenerating their community and environment. Success would be defined by well-being and resilience – say, enriching the local ecosystem or providing stable jobs – rather than how fast they can multiply into new markets.

In tandem, we must reevaluate profit. Profit becomes a means to sustain the enterprise and its stakeholders, not an end in itself. Some pioneers are even experimenting with gift-oriented or sliding-scale models. In her essay (and now book) The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance, Robin Wall Kimmerer reimagines economics through the lens of reciprocity. Drawing from Indigenous knowledge, she asks what it would mean to treat commerce as “a way of taking care of one another,” rather than a system of extraction. Not every business can run entirely on gifting, but the principle is instructive. It gestures toward an economy based on trust, relationship, and enoughness. Post-growth entrepreneurs would still charge fair prices and earn a living, but they’d seek sufficiency rather than endless accumulation. The goal shifts from maximising returns and endless growth to cultivating long-term, sustainable relationships of care – with customers, workers, and the planet.

Toward a New Archetype: The Post-Growth Professional

“Small is good, small is all” – adrienne maree brown, Emergent Strategy (41)

All of this has helped me begin to sketch a new version of what it means to live and work with purpose. We can imagine an archetype of the post-growth purpose-driven person. They are guided by dharma (an inner calling) and tempered by Saturn’s discipline (integrity, patience). They strive for enough rather than excess. They seek to do good work and make a decent living, but refuse to sacrifice their values or wellbeing for the sake of “more.” They are also community-minded, understanding that individual purpose is intertwined with the needs of others.

This emerging philosophy is evident in movements like adrienne maree brown’s Emergent Strategy, which urges us to trust in small, iterative changes and relationships over top-down control. It’s seen in the rise of cooperatives and the popularity of concepts like “right livelihood” (making an ethical living). The common thread is a rejection of the burnout, hyper-competitive, always-scaling ethos. In its place comes an emphasis on relationship, quality, and care. This is purpose reimagined: no longer a race to the top or an individual pursuit, but a journey toward wholeness and reciprocity.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Purpose Beyond Scale

All of this to say, purpose does not disappear in a post-growth world. If anything, it becomes more authentic. When we stop equating meaning with size or speed, we remember that a life’s purpose is something qualitative. It can be measured in relationships nurtured, skills mastered, help given – not in numbers or metrics. In a post-growth paradigm, the educator mentoring troubled kids or the farmer healing a patch of land is no longer just a heart-warming footnote – they are the story.

What if our work didn’t need to scale, only to serve? Perhaps then the emphasis could shift to depth: refining what we’re able to offer, tending to what’s within reach, and trusting that this is enough.

We’re not fully in that world yet. Most of us still live within the demands of capitalism. We need to earn, support families, pay rent. Systems of extraction still shape the conditions we’re navigating. But something is shifting. We are part of a bridging generation; those holding the tension between the world as it is and the world we’re trying to grow into. It’s slow, imperfect, and full of contradictions. But it’s happening.

Liberating purpose from the tyranny of growth means finding ways to align our work with our values, our capacities, and our joy, even under constraint.

As philosopher Bayo Akomolafe reminds us, “Purpose is not what gives us value. We give purpose value.”

For me, the hardest part hasn’t been caring or wanting to contribute. It’s been learning to trust the pull toward purpose without immediately second-guessing it as ego. I’m still figuring out how to tell the difference. But I’m beginning to believe that purpose can stretch outward without losing its roots. That it can move through us in ways both visible and unseen.

Maybe that’s where it begins: trusting what we already carry. However bold. However quiet. However unfinished.