Introduction: When Exploration Requires a Destination
In my last post, I embraced the metaphor of exploration—not of lands or oceans, but of models, ideas, and intellectual frontiers. I wrote that the realm of thought still offers vast space to map.
But exploration, even metaphorical, carries a hidden assumption: that we’re going somewhere.
Maps, by definition, imply destinations. And destinations imply goals.
That, already, is a curious twist. Before we talk about how to explore—or how to live meaningfully, or how to do science or build a life—we might ask a more basic question: how do we choose where we’re trying to go?
What does it mean to make a goal? And is it as straightforward as it seems?
1. The Map, the Goal, the Metaphor
We live in a culture of metaphors. Many of our frameworks for thinking—especially in science and productivity—borrow from spatial and visual language. We “navigate” uncertainty. We “map out” plans. We follow “trajectories,” draw “timelines,” aim for “targets,” and strive to “stay on course.”
These metaphors carry weight. When we imagine life as a landscape, we naturally assume that there are paths. That those paths lead somewhere. That, perhaps, there’s a better place we’re meant to arrive at—if only we could optimize the journey.
This is the promise of modern productivity and much of self-help literature: that with the right systems in place (Agile, Kanban, SMART goals), we can reach whatever end we’ve set for ourselves.
But what if the destination itself isn’t so obvious?
We rarely interrogate the process by which goals emerge. The question is usually how to reach them—not why they were set in the first place. Or what unspoken assumptions made them appear desirable.
And yet, to “optimize” anything, we must first define a cost function. In other words: what exactly are we maximizing? What is the measure of success?
Every act of goal-making quietly rests on a scaffold of values and assumptions—a notion explored beautifully in Metaphors We Live By and Myth, Metaphor and Science.
2. The Meta-Layer of Goal-Making
Behind every goal lies a quiet architecture: a value system, a worldview, a set of constraints and desires. But how often do we stop to question that architecture?
When we say we want to make “better” decisions, pursue “better” outcomes, or live a “better” life—what do we mean by better? The very notion of optimality implies the existence of a function to optimize. But who defined that function? On what basis? And with what variables?
This is the first meta-layer of goal-making: not just choosing a goal, but choosing how we choose it.
It’s an unsettling realization. To declare something optimal without scrutinizing the underlying cost function is to trust blindly in a scaffold we may not understand. And if we zoom out again, a second meta-layer emerges: what’s the optimal method for defining an optimal method to define a goal?
The regress is infinite—or at least humbling. As discussed in Locke & Latham’s Goal-Setting Theory, even seemingly rational goals are embedded in assumptions about clarity, challenge, and feedback.
Goal-making is never as rational or clean as we’d like to believe. It’s an iterative, feedback-laden process. Which leads us naturally to the next question:
3. Feedback and the Illusion of the Global Optimum
Let’s say we do define a clear, desirable goal. How can we be sure it’s the right one?
The truth is: we can’t. Not in advance.
In complex, nonlinear systems—like careers, relationships, or scientific inquiry—we often mistake local optima for global ones. We pursue what looks good from here, only to realize, years later, that another path might have led to a richer peak.
This is why feedback is essential. It’s not just an engineering principle—it’s a way of living. Good systems allow for course correction. They include the possibility of doubt, revision, and pivot.
Some modern frameworks like Scrum and OKRs incorporate this idea. As noted in Agile Feedback Process Literature, feedback loops are not luxury—they’re necessity.
And so, we need a posture of flexibility—what some spiritual traditions call non-attachment. In the Ambalaṭṭhikā-Rāhulovāda Sutta, the Buddha speaks to his son using the metaphor of a mirror: the wise person observes themselves not to judge, but to understand—constantly realigning with what is.
In science, we might call this an adaptive model. In life, we might call it wisdom.
4. The Generative Model: Where Do Goals Come From?
If we look deeper, we might ask not just how to choose among goals, but how they emerge at all.
One hypothesis is this: the mind generates possible goals constantly—like a stochastic process, a bubbling of ideas, images, impulses. But not all of them get pursued. Why? Because values act as filters. They determine which possible goals are retained, amplified, or discarded.
Values are the ranking mechanism in the goal-generation process.
This reframes the central question: not “what goal should I pursue?” but “what values are guiding my filter?”
But then—where do these values come from?
Here we can draw from philosophy and psychology:
- Nietzsche might say values are created—a willful assertion of meaning (Nietzsche’s Ethics).
- Jung might say they are discovered—emerging from archetypes and the unconscious (Jungian Archetypes).
- Neuroscience might point to the role of dopamine in valuing and committing to goals (Dopamine & Motivation).
Each lens reminds us: goal-making is not purely logical. It is deeply biological, psychological, and cultural.
5. Vagabonds, Wanderers, and the Metrics of Our Time
And so, if we cannot always define the “right” destination, should we abandon goal-making altogether?
Not necessarily. But perhaps we can reimagine it.
Exploration doesn’t always require a fixed endpoint. Some journeys are stochastic. Some are aesthetic. Some are improvisational. Some are driven not by metrics, but by curiosity, intuition, or joy.
The wanderer has no map—but still moves.
This brings us to a final reflection: the metrics of our time. In a world shaped by industrial logic and economic optimization, it’s no surprise that utility and profit have become dominant measures of success.
Even individual lives are often framed in terms of return on investment, productivity, and market value.
There’s a strange power in this logic—it allows comparison, coordination, and exchange. Money, after all, functions as a universal medium of value. But it also comes with a cost: the risk of quantifying what might be best left unmeasured.
Can everything be optimized? Should it?
Perhaps not. Perhaps there’s value in leaving some goals fuzzy, some values unranked, and some territories unmapped.
A Compass to Carry: The Micro‑Goal Recalibration Loop
Here’s one simple, daily-use mental model you can carry forward:
Once a day, pause and ask: “What was my real goal in that moment?”
This creates a micro-feedback loop. It helps you notice when your actions drift from your intentions—or when your intentions no longer make sense.
You can treat this as a 1-minute check-in before bed, or after a tense moment, using these prompts:
- Did I act toward a goal I still value?
- Was I optimizing for something implicit—like approval, ease, or speed?
- If I had to reframe the day’s goal, what would it be now?
Think of it as a soft compass calibration—not to force alignment, but to stay aware of how your values shift and shape your behavior.
Over time, this small habit helps clarify which goals truly emerge from your values—and which are inherited, reactive, or outdated.
Conclusion: Compass Over Map
In this post, I haven’t offered a framework for setting goals. I’ve questioned the premise.
I’ve suggested that the act of making a goal is already embedded in layers of metaphor, assumption, and feedback—and that our values are the hidden gears turning that machinery.
This doesn’t mean we should abandon goals. But perhaps we can hold them more lightly. Orient by compass, not by fixed map. Aim, yes—but with humility. Move, yes—but with awareness.
Because sometimes, it’s not the destination that matters, but the clarity of the direction—and the integrity of the step.
Let’s keep walking.