Fabian Graf at AUREA: I Followed My Doubts Instead of My Heart
At forty-five he asked himself what he was passionate about and found he had no answer. What he did next — and the four steps he used to find one — is the most practical account of locating a purpose you'll hear.
Fabian Graf is Belgian, has lived in Miami for twenty-four years, and had built a successful life in commercial real estate.
At forty-five he asked himself two questions — how can I serve? and what am I passionate about? — and discovered he could not answer either one.
"I felt very odd. I felt scared. I felt terrified to continue my life without a purpose — without something that was a driving force."
The sentence that explains most of it
Asked what he would say to someone torn between two directions, he does not offer a framework. He offers a confession.
"I've always known that when I follow my heart, it was always on point. And then there were times in my life where I had doubts — and I decided to follow my doubts instead of following my heart."
Read that again, because it is a more precise description of how people go wrong than any amount of theory. Not I didn't know. He knew. He had a reliable instrument and a track record of it being right, and in the moments that counted he consulted the fear instead.
He is also unwilling to let the standard advice off the hook:
"Get out of your head, into your heart. I know that sounds cliché. Hearing it is easy. Going through it was very different."
Four steps, in his order
1. Get clear — which for him meant get clean.
He stopped drinking entirely. And he is specific that this was not about a problem:
"I wasn't a big drinker. But just even a glass of wine here and there was altering my connection with myself."
That is a much higher bar than most people set. Not is this harming me, but is this putting the smallest distance between me and my own signal — at exactly the moment he needed the signal to be readable.
2. Get out of the environment.
Isolation, or nature. Off the day-to-day, the job, the earning — what he calls the rat wheel — long enough to actually feel yourself.
The lockdown did this to him by force, and he describes the realisation it produced with some embarrassment: he had not spent meaningful time alone with himself in a very long time.
What followed came in sequence, each thing unlocking the next. Vivid dreams returned. Then the strength to journal again. Then meditation. Then the mountains of Colorado.
3. Ask the hard questions.
What am I really doing? What is my purpose? What am I passionate about? What do I love?
And the one that broke it open for him:
"If I didn't have to make money — if I had all the money in the world — what would I just love to do?"
He is clear about what that question is designed to remove:
"We let money hold us back. Money, or status, or the way we perceive people looking at us."
4. Give it enough time to actually answer.
The night it didn't work
The most honest part of the story is the part that failed.
He went to Tulum during a full moon and a full eclipse, sensing something was there. He entered a ceremony with a clear intention — clarity and vision — and lay on the grass under an enormous moon, asking what he was supposed to do.
What he got was not gentle. He describes three hours of one message, delivered with a force he did not expect:
"What to do — you do it now. You don't wait."
And then the next morning:
"I woke up with no clarity and no vision. I was like — wow, I did all of this, for what?"
He did not force it. He let it go and carried on.
It arrived a day later, lying quietly with his heart repeating one word — nature — while he turned over a business idea he had been considering, a hard twelve-day trek in the mountains with CEOs. He noticed he felt no drive for the business at all. The drive was in the mountains themselves: the training, the climbing, the running.
And then it dropped.
"Holy cow — I'm supposed to protect our nature."
Not the abstract knowledge that someone should. Full ownership.
"I have to be the driver. No matter if there is a company or not, or a government. I'm going to do whatever it takes."
His life changed direction from one day to the next.
The mirror on the Zoom call
Then the confirmation arrived from outside, which is often how it goes.
A reforestation company contacted him out of nowhere — inexplicably, since his entire professional profile said commercial real estate. They regenerate soil and regrow forest with biodiversity at scale in the Amazon, and they do it by employing the people who own the land and making them partners.
What struck him was not the technology. It was the man on the screen.
"He was very nerdy — not the type of person I'd normally be drawn to. But he was speaking with so much passion. I looked at him and thought: oh my God, this is me when I'm passionate. And that's when I realised I had lost true passion for something."
And underneath that, the shift he had actually been looking for the whole time:
"Most of my life I was like — what's in it for me, what's in it for me. Always trying to figure out an angle. Survival mode. And for once it was something way above me. That was exciting."
The takeaway
You probably do not have an information problem. Fabian describes himself as having been shallow across many topics and failing to listen to the one instrument that had never been wrong.
So the work is not acquiring a purpose. It is removing everything sitting between you and the answer you already have — the drink, the noise, the environment, and the money question you have never let yourself answer honestly.
Then give it long enough. His came a full day after he had given up on getting it.
Watch the full conversation above.
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