I must have something to engross my thoughts, some object in life

Hear the stirring words of Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to bear the title of physician in the land of America: “I must have something to engross my thoughts, some object in life which will fill this vacuum, and prevent this sad wearing away of the heart.” In this utterance lies a cry that is both personal and universal, for every human soul, if left without purpose, begins to decay. The body may breathe, the blood may flow, but without a guiding star, the spirit wanes. It is purpose that saves us from the slow erosion of despair.

The ancients themselves understood this truth. They taught that the heart without direction is like a vessel adrift upon a stormy sea—tossed by every wave, carried by every wind, yet arriving nowhere. Blackwell’s words, born of her own battle against isolation and the weight of a world that scorned her ambition, echo this wisdom. She knew the emptiness of a life without an object, and the healing power of a mission that fills the soul to overflowing.

Consider her own story: when she declared her desire to become a physician, she was ridiculed and rejected by many. She was told it was unfeminine, unnatural, impossible. Yet, rather than surrender to this vacuum, she seized her vision as a shield against despair. That vision consumed her thoughts, gave strength to her weary days, and prevented the “sad wearing away of the heart.” Through this unyielding devotion, she became the first woman to receive a medical degree in the United States, blazing a path where none had existed. Her object in life was not only to heal bodies, but to heal barriers.

History offers other examples of souls saved by purpose. Think of Viktor Frankl, the physician imprisoned in the death camps of the Second World War. Surrounded by misery, stripped of freedom, tormented by cruelty, he discovered that only those who clung to a meaning beyond themselves endured. “Those who have a why can bear almost any how,” he later wrote. This is the very spirit of Blackwell’s wisdom: that without something to fill the void, the heart withers, but with meaning, even in the harshest conditions, the soul endures.

Blackwell’s words also speak to our modern world, where countless hearts feel this slow erosion, not from great suffering, but from emptiness. Many wander through life chasing pleasures, yet find no fulfillment. Others drown in labor but forget to ask, for what do I labor? Thus their days wear away, not in catastrophe, but in quiet despair. To them, her cry is a warning: find something worthy, or the vacuum will consume you.

The lesson is this: do not live without an object in life. Seek out a pursuit, a calling, a mission that grips the soul and directs the mind. Let it be noble, let it be greater than yourself, for such a cause will anchor you when storms arise. Without it, the heart will weaken, eaten away by apathy, doubt, and sorrow. With it, you will not only survive, but thrive, leaving footprints of meaning upon the sands of time.

Practical is this teaching: rise each day and ask, What fills the vacuum of my heart? Choose not idleness, but engagement. Choose not despair, but action. Write your vision plainly, and pursue it with discipline. If you cannot yet see your great purpose, begin with small ones—acts of kindness, works of learning, seeds of creativity. In time, these will gather into a mighty harvest, and the vacuum will be no more.

Thus Elizabeth Blackwell’s words shine as a lamp to all generations: “I must have something to engross my thoughts… to prevent this sad wearing away of the heart.” Let us heed her wisdom. Let us not drift empty, but live with meaning. For the heart that is filled with purpose will not wear away, but will endure like stone, shining even in the storm, and lighting the way for those who come after.