I just finished reading The Meaning of Your Life by Arthur Brooks over the past few days. The timing was right.

The last few months have been pretty intense—finishing my manuscript, planning for the May cohort of Archimedes, and selling my house in Vermont. Everything has been moving quickly, in a good way, but still quickly.

Arthur’s book slowed me down in a way I didn’t realize I needed. It felt almost meditative at times, like a gentle reminder to zoom out. In modern life, we rarely do.

We fill every quiet moment. Even our downtime starts to feel like something to optimize. And somewhere along the way, we stop asking the bigger questions.

SUPERHUMAN SCORING

In every edition of System Sunday, I assess the featured system across three superhuman dimensions: impact, setup, and maintenance.

Unlike your typical review, I focus on factors that influence personal growth. Get to know the evaluation system.

Impact (10.0/10)

There were a lot of ideas in this book that stayed with me, but one in particular stood out: what Arthur calls the hierarchy of meaning in work.

From lowest to highest:

• Necessary Evil
• Duty
• Craft
• Service to Others
• Calling

What I appreciate about this framework is how practical it is.

It doesn’t assume you need to find the perfect job right away. It suggests something more useful: that meaning can deepen depending on how you engage with the work you already have.

And that matters.

The average person will spend around 80,000 hours working over their lifetime. Even small shifts in how those hours feel can meaningfully change your life.

Setup (8.5/10)

Here’s how I’ve been thinking about each stage—and what to do at each level:

Necessary Evil

This is when work feels like something to get through.

I remember feeling this way waiting tables in my early 20s. It wasn’t where I wanted to be, but it was what I needed to pay rent.

When you’re here, try this: reframe it from “I have to do this” to “I get to do this.”

For me, that meant shifting from “I have to wait on these tables” to “I get to create an incredible birthday, anniversary, or first-date experience for the people sitting in front of me.”

It’s a small shift, but it softens the experience.

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Duty

At this level, there’s a sense of responsibility. You show up because something—or someone—depends on it.

For me, that looked like working in consulting to pay off student loans. It wasn’t the end goal, but it mattered.

What helped was asking: What is this season building in me?

That job sharpened skills I still rely on today, like structuring my thinking and solving problems under pressure.

Seen that way, duty becomes less about obligation and more about preparation for what comes next.

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Craft

This is where the work starts to interest you. You begin paying attention to the details, the process, the quality of what you’re producing.

For me, this started when I was put on a consulting project to build a company-wide newsletter. I started caring about writing in a way I hadn’t before.

At this level, meaning grows through improvement.

→ You look for feedback
→ You refine your approach
→ You take pride in getting better

There’s something deeply satisfying about watching yourself improve at something over time, even if no one else notices.

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Service to Others

Here, the focus moves beyond you.

Work starts to feel different when you can clearly see who it impacts. A client. A customer. A colleague. Even a single person.

For me, that shift happened when I started sharing ideas publicly and hearing from strangers that something I wrote had helped them.

One subtle shift that helps here is to make the impact more visible.

Pay attention to how your work shows up in someone else’s life. Collect those moments. Remember them.

Sometimes the meaning is already there. We just need to take the time to notice it.

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Calling

At the top is calling.

Here, the work starts to feel aligned with something deeper.

One way to think about that alignment is through the Japanese concept of ikigai. It’s the overlap between what you love, what you’re good at, what you can be paid for, and what the world needs.

The closer your work moves toward that intersection, the more it starts to feel like a calling.

Arthur suggests a simple way to think about this:

If my basic needs were fully met—food, housing, security—would I still want to do this work?

For me, writing my forthcoming book is the clearest expression of that so far.

You don’t need a perfect answer right away. But it’s a question worth returning to.

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Maintenance (9.5/10)

In reality, most of us move between these levels.

Some parts of your work might feel like craft. Others might still feel like duty. Occasionally, something might feel like a calling.

The goal is to be aware of where you are—and respond intentionally.

• When you’re in a lower level, reframing helps
• When you’re in the middle, improving helps
• When you’re in a higher level, expanding your impact helps

And if your work isn’t providing much meaning right now, it becomes even more important to build meaning outside of it—through relationships, community, and reflection.

BRINGING IT HOME

The Meaning of Your Life is one of those books worth reading slowly. I highly recommend it.

When I look back on my days waiting tables and my time in consulting, it felt like a necessary evil or a sense of duty. Just something to get through.

But in hindsight, I can see how much it shaped me—how it built skills I still rely on and nudged me toward the work I do now.

You can’t connect the dots going forward. That’s easy to forget when you’re in the middle of it.

Even if your work doesn’t feel meaningful right now, don’t underestimate what it’s preparing you for.

All systems go,

P.S. I shared a major life update this week! I can’t wait to marry you, Jade.

Thank you to everyone who reached out with kind words and congratulations. 🙏 I’m the luckiest guy in the world.