I’ve heard it said that the goal of life is to figure out one’s purpose, and that the purpose of life is to give it away–something like that, anyway.

I believe (and have found true) that once we’re razor clear about our purpose, the people who need the particular gift each of us has naturally and easily appear.

And yet; and yet.

The great reconciliation we must all eventually make is that we can only help others to the extent to which they want to be helped. We can only support positive change in the lives of others to the extent to which they’re open to change.

We can, after all, only do for others what they invite us into their world of being to do.

There is perhaps no adage more true than the old, “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink.”

In fact, whoever said that was damn persuasive if being able to lead the horse was a given.

This isn’t important, though.

To be fair to ourselves (and to not overreach our realm of control) we must keep in mind where our responsibility to support others starts and ends.

Our responsibility starts at the outset of knowing anyone, since we should all be inclined to give to others. Our power to enact change finds its end wherever another erects a boundary.

It’s the whole, “do what you can with what you’ve got, where you are” thing all over again.

This doesn’t mean that we lack the grounds needed to give each other feedback about how others’ behavior is affecting us; close family and friends have a kind of duty to keep each other in check.

In metaphorical horse-world that might sound like, “Hey there, you look mighty thirsty. Like you need a good drink…I know where the river is, and if you’re ever interested, I’d be more than happy to show you how to get there.”

Or: “As much as I love you and think your mane looks like it’s reflecting moonshine no matter what time of day it is, I got to be honest with you: From over here it looks like you got some severe dehydration going on, and boy do I wish you’d get yourself a drink for both our sakes.”

But after that–after we’ve said our piece and expressed whatever we felt was true and owed to the wellbeing of others and ourselves–we have to check our own selves.

It doesn’t matter how much we care, or how convinced we are (and maybe rightly so!) that we know what a person needs or would benefit from. It doesn’t even matter if we have ready access to it that we can easily share with others.

People come to things when they’re ready.

And with somethings, even the things we wish others were ready for most, this means never at all. Not this go around, anyway.

We can’t know where a person is on their journey–on their spiritual trajectory.

As much as we think we might know best, we must accept that maybe the time isn’t right for that spirit to take on that challenge, learn that lesson, untangle that web.

Our desires and timelines don’t always match up with others’ and we must work to make peace with this, entrust that each person is actually steering in the direction they most need to go.

Even if it’s down a dark well. Even if it’s a rocky, arduous route. And even if we believe we see a smooth, poreless way just a few skoshes to the right of it they might take instead.

In the end–it’s ended up here again, as it always does–the only person we can really work to improve, to reflect all we want to be in the world, is ourselves. And in so doing, hope to be shining examples for those around us.

Even though it might not feel like it at times, your living your purpose, cultivating goodness and wonder, and working to embody integrity and love with an undeterred focus will naturally be noticed by those around you. And how it inspires them you might never know.

In summation:

Improve your corner of the world, first and foremost.

Always be willing to listen to others, and always try to do so without judgment.

Give what and the extent to which others are open to receiving.

Remember that each person is really doing the best they can.

Trust that people really do come to things when they’re ready. Even though “ready” almost always looks more like a breaking point and never like the perfect alignment of timing and conditions.