What an Alien Taught Me About Finding Purpose

When I first stumbled upon SyFy’s “Resident Alien,” I was not sure what I was expecting. I had been looking at Netflix and wondering if they would ever show anything other than some of the weird dubbed things that they seem to pump out.

I anticipated a quirky sci-fi comedy. What I got instead was an unexpected dive into humanity, delivered through the most unlikely of philosophers: an alien assassin stranded on Earth and disguised as a small-town doctor.

Harry Vanderspeigle—or rather, the alien who assumes his identity—begins his journey on our planet with a mission to destroy humanity. He views us as little more than a plague on the backside of the universe, frequently commenting on our apparent inferiority:

“All beings in the universe are different. For instance, my people are brilliant. Humans, on the other hand, are so dumb that they think the leading cause of death is heart disease. It’s not. It’s almond milk. Even the grey aliens won’t touch the stuff.”

Yet through his reluctant interactions with the residents of Patience, Colorado, our delightful alien amigo embarks on an unintended journey of discovery—not just about humans, but about himself. And through his evolving perspective, we gain some wonderful insights into our own species.

It really brought back so many little reminders of what makes us human. I loved it.

The Absurdity of Human Rituals

Harry’s observations about our customs highlight the seeming absurdity of traditions we take for granted:

“I do not understand why humans celebrate their births. Everyone who is alive has been born. It is not special. A birthday party is just a participation trophy.”

You have to admire the brutal honesty. Harry lacks the filter that most humans use, making his observations both hilarious and uncomfortably accurate. You know that cringe you feel when someone blurts out an inconvenient truth at a dinner party? That’s Harry—constantly.

But he does have a point. Humans do create elaborate rituals around the most natural occurrences. Take, for example, quintessentially British traditions. The almost sacred act of afternoon tea (I love afternoon tea), the unspoken social rules about when to add milk, and, of course, the nation’s unwavering devotion to queuing. To an alien, these behaviours must seem entirely bizarre.

And yet, even the most illogical of traditions serve a purpose. They connect us, give structure to our chaotic existence, and create shared experiences that bond us together in ways that defy rationality. Harry’s mistake is assuming that because something seems meaningless, it is meaningless.

Emotions: Weakness or Strength?

At the start of Harry’s time on Earth, Harry views human emotions with a mixture of disgust and fascination:

“Pathetic humans, letting their emotions dictate their behaviour. These two are distraught by something as small as a loved one being poisoned to death. I wonder if I can get that chicken while they’re fighting.”

I can imagine to an outsider, our emotional reactions might seem irrational or even counterproductive. We make decisions based on feelings rather than logic. We form attachments that cause us tremendous pain when broken. We risk our own well-being for emotional connections.

However, as Harry spends more time among humans, he begins to experience these emotions himself (wait till you get to the bit about the baby). Through his journey, we see that what initially seemed like a weakness might actually be one of our greatest strengths. Our capacity for empathy, love, and connection doesn’t diminish us—it defines us. Only this morning, my Facebook feed is full of my long-gone first dog, Ferdy. I am not ashamed to admit I howled… He broke his leg not long after my spine fractured, and he looked so forlorn.

The Search for Meaning

One of the most fascinating aspects of Harry’s character development is his gradual realisation that existence without meaning is hollow. Despite his supposed and assumed superiority, he finds himself increasingly drawn to human connections and experiences.

During his accidental acid trip, Harry wonders aloud:

“I just saw an alien take off its head, and there was a human inside! Do I have a human inside of me? How many licks does it take to get to the human?”

Beneath the hallucination-fuelled rambling lies a deeper truth: identity isn’t just about biology. As Harry spends more time among humans, he starts to become human in ways he never expected. He experiences friendship, compassion, guilt, longing, a yearning for purpose, and—most unsettling of all—love.

I can tell you he’s not a fan of becoming more human.

Connection: The Universal Need

Resident Alien beautifully illustrates (with lots of humour) that connection might be the one universal truth. Harry begins his time on Earth convinced that he’s superior, that emotions are unnecessary, and that isolation is preferable.

By the end? He risks everything to protect the humans he once planned to kill.

This mirrors our own struggles with connection. We have endless ways to simulate connection—social media, instant messaging, endless Zoom calls—but nothing replaces the real thing. The pandemic made this abundantly clear. As much as technology helped, it couldn’t fully satisfy our fundamental need for in-person interaction. I certainly missed seeing my mum when they closed regional lines and stopped us from travelling.

Harry learns, as we all do that true connection isn’t about proximity—it’s about presence.

Finding Purpose in a Chaotic Universe

Perhaps the most profound lesson Harry learns—and teaches us—is about the nature of purpose itself:

“Despite their differences, there is one truth that connects all beings. Life doesn’t ever go as planned.”

The full quote is – All beings in the universe are different. For instance, my people are brilliant. Humans, on the other hand, are so dumb that they think the leading cause of death is heart disease. It’s not. It’s almond milk. Even the gray aliens won’t touch the stuff. Despite their differences, there is one truth that connects all beings. Life doesn’t ever go as planned.

Life is unpredictable. We plan, we set goals, and then—boom—something upends everything. (A little like an alien crash-landing in the middle of nowhere.)

At first, Harry clings to his mission. His purpose is clear: destroy humanity. But as he experiences love, loss, and the messy reality of being human, he begins to question everything. His mission erodes, replaced by an existential crisis that will feel very familiar to anyone who has ever asked, “What am I actually doing with my life?”

Dear me, we do wonder that a lot, don’t we?

Eventually, he realises:

“Killing may make humans feel strong in the moment, but what I’ve begun to realise is, true strength comes from choosing not to kill. Maybe being truly human is about choosing to love instead. But with that love comes the pain I feel inside me.”

That’s the cost of caring. The more deeply we connect, the more we risk pain. But would any of us really trade that pain to live a life without love? (Even Harry—reluctantly—admits he wouldn’t.)

I know I wouldn’t give any of it up easily.

Learning to Be Human

Harry’s journey from detached observer to connected participant offers some great guidance. We live in an odd time of algorithmic feeds and artificial intelligence. It’s easy to observe life from a distance—scrolling social media instead of engaging, numbing ourselves with distractions instead of feeling—Harry’s journey reminds us to be human, fully and messily.

Like our darling Harry (you will learn to love him), we have to make the choice:

• To prioritise connection over isolation.
• To embrace our emotions rather than fear them.
• To find meaning, even in absurdity.

And most importantly, to accept that life doesn’t have to go as planned to still be beautiful.

So, if you’re feeling Fed Up as F***, (take the quiz) perhaps take a lesson from our favourite alien. You don’t need a grand mission or a perfect plan. Sometimes, all you need is a friend, a laugh, and maybe—just maybe—a reason to celebrate the fact that you were born. (Even if it is just a participation trophy.)

The Courage to Be Imperfect

One of Harry’s most endearing qualities is his complete lack of social finesse (he is soooo funny). His attempts to integrate into human society are awkward, clumsy, and, more often than not, wildly inappropriate. (Ever tried blending in by murdering someone and stuffing their body in a freezer? No? Just Harry, then.)

His missteps create some of the show’s best comedy, but they also highlight something important about the human experience: the courage to be imperfect.

I love Salvador Dalí’s quote: “Have no fear of perfection. You’ll never reach it.”

And yet, how often do we tie our self-worth to an unattainable ideal? We curate our online presence, filter out the struggles (or at least apply a flattering sepia tone), and compare our behind-the-scenes mess to other people’s highlight reels. The pressure to be perfect can create an exhausting cycle of anxiety and disconnection.

Harry, however, doesn’t waste time pretending. He blunders forward, says the wrong things, makes terrible decisions, and somehow still manages to learn, adapt, and keep showing up. Imperfectly, but authentically. I love Harry’s blunders.

And isn’t that what truly connects us? Not our ability to be flawless but our willingness to be seen as we really are—messy, awkward, and beautifully human.

The Human Paradox

What Harry ultimately discovers—and what Resident Alien brilliantly illustrates—is the central paradox of human existence:

Our greatest strength lies in what initially appears to be weakness.

• Our emotions make us vulnerable, yet they are also what allow us to form deep connections.
• Our awareness of mortality creates anxiety, yet it also fuels appreciation and urgency to live fully.
• Our capacity for suffering enables our capacity for joy.

Harry arrives on Earth as a would-be destroyer of humanity. Cold, logical, and indifferent. He sees no real meaning in human existence—just chaos, absurd rituals, and irrational emotions. In a way, he begins as a nihilist, believing that nothing really matters.

But as he experiences love, loss, and connection, something shifts.

He starts to understand that meaning isn’t something we find—it’s something we create.

Nihilism tells us that life has no inherent purpose. But here’s the thing: we are meaning-making creatures. Even in the randomness of the universe, we fight for things that matter to us. Whether it’s love, dogs, family, or friendship, we create purpose simply by choosing to care.

You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need a grand, cosmic mission. What matters is choosing connection over isolation, purpose over emptiness, and love over indifference.

Because in the end, the meaning of life isn’t something we discover—it’s something we decide.

As Harry himself puts it:

“Human beings are mostly water. But the rest is stories, feelings, and an inexplicable desire to gather in groups and consume processed foods.”

And somehow, that’s enough to make life worth living.

Ready to Find Your Own Purpose?

If an alien assassin can go from Fed Up as F** * to discovering meaning in connection, surely we can do the same—without the need for intergalactic mishaps.

If you’re feeling lost, stuck, or like life just isn’t quite clicking the way it should, you don’t have to navigate it alone. Through journaling, breathwork, energy work, and visualisation, I help people like you break through the fog, rediscover what truly matters, and create a life that feels meaningful again.

Want to start small? Take a look at The Writing Sanctuary.

Looking for deeper transformation? Work with me 1:1 to uncover what’s next for you and step into the life you’re meant to live.

Resident Alien is currently airing on NetFlix in Spain.