No matter what your mission is, have some notion in your head.

“No matter what your mission is, have some notion in your head. Forget the model, whether it's government or nonprofit or profit. Ask yourself the more important question: Is my mission improving the world? Are you sure about it? Seek to disconfirm that all the time. And if you can, change your mission.” Thus spoke Jeff Bezos, a man who built an empire not merely of commerce, but of vision. In these words, he strips away the illusions that bind the minds of leaders — the obsession with structure, wealth, or prestige — and points to the one true measure of greatness: impact. He teaches that every endeavor, whether in the realm of business, governance, or charity, must begin not with ambition, but with reflection; not with profit, but with purpose. For a mission without conscience is a ship without a compass, destined to drift upon the seas of vanity and self-deception.

The origin of this quote lies in Bezos’s reflections on innovation and leadership, born from decades of navigating both success and scrutiny. As the founder of Amazon, he built one of the most powerful institutions in modern history — yet, beyond its towering reach, he often spoke of the necessity of grounding ambition in humility. This statement came not from a moment of triumph, but from a place of philosophical clarity — a recognition that all human enterprises, no matter how grand, must remain open to correction. In his view, even the most brilliant mission must be tested continually against reality and ethics. For when an institution — be it government, nonprofit, or corporation — ceases to question itself, it ceases to serve the world and begins to serve only itself.

When Bezos commands, “Forget the model,” he speaks as one weary of dogma. Too often, men and women imprison their creativity within the walls of tradition: governments cling to bureaucracy, companies chase profit, charities repeat rituals of pity. But the wise, he reminds us, seek not to imitate old models but to discover truth anew. The structure of an organization is but a vessel — it matters little whether it bears the banner of public or private, charity or commerce — what matters is the cargo it carries. Does it bring nourishment or poison? Progress or corruption? The model may shape the form, but the mission shapes the soul.

Then he asks the most piercing question of all: “Is my mission improving the world?” This question is both mirror and sword — it demands honesty and cuts through illusion. Many speak of doing good, yet few have the courage to measure their impact truthfully. To “seek to disconfirm” one’s mission is to live in a state of vigilance, to test one’s purpose not by intention but by consequence. This is the mark of wisdom: to doubt oneself not out of weakness, but out of reverence for truth. History is filled with those who claimed to serve humanity but instead enslaved it — reformers who became tyrants, innovators who built tools of harm, institutions that decayed under the weight of their own arrogance. Bezos’s counsel is a shield against that fate: a warning that the noblest missions can turn hollow when pride blinds their keepers.

Consider the tale of Ashoka the Great, the emperor of ancient India. In his youth, he conquered vast lands with the sword, believing his mission divine. Yet after the Battle of Kalinga, where tens of thousands lay dead, he stood among the corpses and felt his soul tremble. He saw that his mission, once clothed in glory, had brought only suffering. In that moment of reckoning, Ashoka did what few rulers ever do — he changed his mission. He turned from conquest to compassion, from war to peace, and spent the rest of his life spreading the teachings of wisdom and kindness across Asia. His empire, built upon remorse and renewal, became one of the most enlightened in history. Thus, Bezos’s exhortation — “If you can, change your mission” — is not weakness, but greatness: for only the truly strong can admit they were wrong.

The heart of Bezos’s wisdom lies in humility — the humility to question, to doubt, and to evolve. He reminds us that certainty is the death of progress. The world changes, and so must our missions, lest we become relics of our own past. A mission fixed in pride becomes tyranny; a mission open to change becomes eternal. To live by his teaching is to hold one’s purpose lightly but one’s values firmly — to know that improving the world is not a destination but a discipline, a lifelong act of renewal.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching to heart. Whatever your calling — whether you lead a nation, a company, a classroom, or a single family — ask yourself daily: Is my mission improving the world? Do not hide behind models or titles; they are but shadows of substance. Examine your purpose as a gardener tends his soil — pulling the weeds of pride, pruning the branches of folly, watering the roots of truth. And when you find that your mission no longer brings light but casts shadow, do not fear to change it. To correct one’s course is not failure; it is fidelity to wisdom itself.

For as Jeff Bezos reminds us, the noblest mission is not the one that never changes, but the one that forever strives to do better. Let your mission be a living thing — questioning, growing, shedding, and renewing. In this, you will not only improve the world, but also yourself. And when your time is done, you may look upon your life’s work and say, not that it was perfect, but that it was honest — and that, in striving to make the world better, you made it more humane.