You have to know why you get up every morning.

Dan Buettner, the explorer of human longevity, once declared: “You have to know why you get up every morning.” These words, though simple, strike like a bell in the temple of the soul. They speak to the ancient truth that life without purpose is no life at all, and that the rising of the sun must awaken not only the body but also the spirit. For to rise without a reason is to drift like a leaf upon the river; but to rise with purpose is to walk as a warrior on a chosen path.

The ancients knew this truth well. The Stoics of Greece and Rome taught that every man must find his guiding principle, the logos that gives shape to his days. The samurai called it the ikigai—the reason for being, the fire that burns quietly but steadily within. Buettner himself, in studying the Blue Zones where people live the longest and most fulfilled lives, discovered that their secret was not merely diet or exercise, but the presence of this inner compass. They rose each morning not because they had to, but because they had something worth rising for.

History is filled with examples of those who lived and died by this teaching. Consider Viktor Frankl, the survivor of the Nazi camps, who wrote that those who had a why could endure almost any how. Surrounded by death, stripped of freedom, he found meaning in the hope of seeing his loved ones again, in the act of bearing suffering with dignity. That purpose gave him strength when countless others perished. His story proves that the human soul does not thrive on comfort, but on conviction.

To know your why is to be armed against despair. Without it, one may possess riches, honor, or pleasure, and yet feel empty. With it, even poverty, obscurity, or pain cannot rob you of joy. For the farmer, it may be the tending of the soil that feeds his people. For the mother, the nurturing of her children. For the artist, the creation of beauty that outlives him. Each soul must seek its own flame, and without it, the dawn becomes a burden instead of a blessing.

Buettner’s words remind us also that this why must be renewed daily. It is not enough to have once found purpose; one must live it every morning. For each sunrise asks again: will you rise with intention, or will you fall back into the comfort of forgetfulness? To rise without a why is to sleep even while awake. To rise with it is to meet the day as a hero meets the field of battle.

The lesson, then, is clear: seek your why. Do not wait for it to arrive by chance. Search your heart, test your spirit, look at the needs of the world around you. What awakens you, what makes you strong, what draws you forward even through pain—that is your reason. And once you have found it, guard it, nourish it, and let it guide every dawn.

Therefore, children of time, remember this teaching: life is not measured in years, but in mornings. Each sunrise is a summons, and each summons must be answered with purpose. Do not rise merely to exist; rise to fulfill. Rise to love, to serve, to create, to endure, to conquer. For when you know why you rise, then no darkness can master you, and your days, however many or few, will blaze with meaning like the eternal fire.