Fixed and flexible goals
Not all goals are created equal—and that’s a good thing
Today I want to talk about personal goals.
We all have them—some clearly articulated, others vague but still steering our decisions. But “personal goals” is a broad category. It can mean anything from wanting to run a marathon to becoming a partner by 35 to wanting to make a difference in the world. That kind of range makes it easy to treat all goals the same.
But not goals are equal and thus should not be treated as such: some should be fixed, while others need to stay flexible. Some are short-term, while others are life-long. Some can be crossed off a to-do list with relative ease; others may actually be impossible to accomplish.
Learning the difference between fixed and flexible goals has been one of the most important things I’ve done for my emotional health. Specifically, it’s helped me let go of outdated expectations and stay grounded in what actually matters to me.
Fixed goals are rooted in your values. They hold steady even when everything else shifts. For me, a few have remained consistent: I want to do good in the world. I want a family. I want to build a life that feels aligned—ethically, creatively, emotionally.
But how I do good in the world has changed.
I used to think it would happen through practicing medicine. After all, clinical medicine is tangible and urgent. The impact is immediate, especially on POD1 after cataract surgery, when a patient who was functionally blind yesterday comes in able to read the 20/20 line on the eye chart.
Clinical medicine and surgical results gave me purpose and a framework. But over time, I started to see all the different places in which our healthcare system breaks down and fails patients and providers alike. Where even the best intentions and gold-standard care could not make up for structural gaps. I began to realize I could—and preferred to—make a bigger impact in a different way.
Through fits and starts, I began designing solutions to improve access to care. At first, I assumed those solutions had to be cool and cutting-edge. But the longer I worked at the intersection of health and technology, the more clear it became: some of the most effective interventions are logistical. Not flashy. Not complex. Just well-designed systems that reduce friction and actually work.
My overall goal, to improve care delivery, has remained fixed. But the delivery method changed. And it may change again.
That’s the nature of flexible goals. They are meant to evolve. They reflect your context, your resources, and your current understanding of yourself and the world. They should change.
These changes are not a sign of failure. Rather, they are signs you are paying attention.
One of the most common mental traps is treating flexible goals like fixed ones. We tie our sense of purpose to achieving them, whether or not they still make sense.
It’s easier to keep chasing something just because it’s been on your list for years. Even if it no longer fits. Even if it drains you. Sometimes we stay committed to a goal not because it makes sense, but because it’s familiar. And that’s how we get stuck chasing goals out of habit instead of alignment.
So how do you tell the difference?
One useful test: ask whether the goal still holds meaning even if all the surrounding details change. If the “why” behind it still resonates, it is probably fixed. If the “how” or “where” or “with whom” feels more important than the core motivation, you might be dealing with something flexible.
For example: if your goal is to work in academia because you want to mentor others and shape how knowledge is shared, that desire is your fixed goal. But if you’re clinging to the idea that it has to be a tenure-track role at a specific institution—even if the job itself drains you—that part is flexible. It’s okay to let the specifics go, especially if the deeper goal can be met another way.
Another signal: if a goal makes you feel constrained or boxed in, it’s worth examining. Fixed goals tend to anchor you; flexible ones should leave room to move.
For instance, I’ve been feeling pressure to raise a large institutional round for the new thing I’m working on. It’s a familiar milestone in startup world, one that signals legitimacy and ambition. But when I took a step back and considered both the current market and my past experiences, I couldn’t really justify it. More isn’t always better. I still want to build something huge, but I’d rather scale it carefully. The deeper goal—improving access to care—is still what matters most.
Cory Muscara, one of my favorite modern thinkers, writes:
“When you relentlessly adhere to a purpose you previously declared for yourself, you disconnect from the aliveness of who you are right now.”
That disconnection is real. I’ve experienced it many times. And I’ve had to learn that letting go of a goal is not the same as giving up. It’s a recognition that I have changed. That I’ve learned something. That I’m listening to myself.
You don’t need to know who you will be in five years. I certainly don’t. But I trust I’ll keep showing up with enough clarity to shift when needed and enough steadiness to hold on when it counts.
That’s the work in calibrating your goals and ultimately, your life: knowing what to carry vs. what to leave behind.