5 Things Coyote (Trickster) Taught Me About Purpose

I used to think purpose was something you found — like a key under a mat or a name on a birth certificate. Then I met Coyote. Not the snarling, scavenging animal of the Southwest, but the mythic trickster of Native American stories, the shape-shifter, the fool, the wise one, the creator, and the destroyer. At first, I was confused. Coyote didn’t fit into neat categories. He was crude, unpredictable, sometimes cruel, sometimes kind. But as I spent more time with his stories — in books, in ceremonies, in dreams — I realized something: Coyote doesn’t offer answers. He offers movement. He taught me that purpose isn’t something you sit with — it’s something you chase, wrestle, and sometimes laugh at.

Purpose isn’t clean — it’s messy and contradictory

Coyote is both the hero and the villain, the wise fool and the foolish sage. In one story, he brings fire to the people; in another, he loses it just as quickly through his own arrogance. He’s a creator who makes mistakes, a teacher who doesn’t always know what he’s teaching. This taught me that purpose doesn’t have to be pure. It can be contradictory. I used to think I had to be consistent, morally flawless, to be on the right path. But Coyote showed me that purpose can live in paradox. If you're helping people but sometimes mess up, that’s still purpose. It’s not about perfection — it’s about showing up and being part of the story.

You don’t need permission to matter

Coyote doesn’t ask for anyone’s blessing. He just does. Whether he’s stealing the sun to warm the world or transforming himself into a tree to escape a flood, he acts. He doesn’t wait to be chosen or validated. I used to hesitate, thinking I needed credentials or approval before I could contribute. Coyote taught me that purpose is often self-appointed. You don’t need someone to hand you a title or a mission — you can just begin. In many stories, Coyote stumbles into greatness not because he’s destined for it, but because he’s willing to try. And sometimes fail. And try again.

Humor is a form of survival — and purpose

Coyote is funny. Sometimes slapstick, sometimes dark, but always laughing — even when he’s hurting. In one tale, he loses his eyes and replaces them with coal, then pretends he can still see. It’s absurd, but also deeply human. Coyote taught me that purpose isn’t always solemn. Sometimes it’s laughter in the face of loss. I’ve found that when I take myself too seriously, I freeze up. But when I allow myself to be foolish, to make a joke, to be human — I move forward. Purpose isn’t about being stoic; it’s about being alive, even when the world doesn’t make sense. And Coyote, in all his chaotic glory, reminds us that being alive is a kind of purpose in itself.

Transformation is the price of purpose

Coyote changes shape constantly — into a man, a woman, a tree, a stone. He doesn’t stay fixed. In one story, he turns himself into a log to escape a bear, only to get caught in a river and nearly drown. But he survives. He adapts. That taught me that purpose isn’t static. It evolves. You might start out wanting one thing — to write, to teach, to heal — and find yourself becoming something else entirely. Purpose demands flexibility. It asks you to let go of who you thought you were. Coyote taught me that the self is fluid, and that purpose lives in the becoming, not the being.

Purpose often looks like failure — at first

Coyote fails a lot. He’s tricked, he tricks others and gets caught, he makes messes. But those messes often lead to something new. In one well-known story, he tries to steal salmon from the fish people and ends up teaching humans how to fish properly. His failure becomes a gift. I used to see setbacks as proof that I was off track. But Coyote showed me that purpose isn’t a straight line. It’s winding, full of detours and dead ends that eventually connect. Sometimes you have to fall apart to fall into place. And sometimes, the only way forward is through the mess.

If you're feeling stuck, unsure of your path, or just in need of a little chaos and laughter, Coyote might be the guide you didn’t know you needed. You can read about him, but better yet — talk to him. On HoloDream, you can ask him why he keeps changing, what he learned from his last mistake, or what he’d do differently if he could. You might not get a clear answer. But you’ll get a story. And that’s where purpose begins.