“Courage doesn’t happen when you have all the answers. It happens when you are ready to face the questions.” Shannon L. Adler
I am two weeks into my new life as a “pretired” teacher. It’s been filled to the brim with the details of both saying goodbye to the city I’ve lived in for five years and making plans for the upcoming season of traveling on the west coast. As this big change starts to come into focus, the realness of exactly what I’m doing causes three rotating internal responses:
- A feeling of giddy excitement at the thought of my upcoming adventures.
- A terror that settles in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps like the feeling a trapeze artist might get reaching for the next bar and feeling nothing. What the heck did I just do, flinging myself away from everything familiar and stable?
- A familiar ache of loneliness. I’m heading out into so much newness, and I’m doing it alone. I chose that, and I wouldn’t wish it to be different. Not really. But the reality of all the bravery ahead makes me feel small. Makes me wish for someone to hold my hand, to say “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out together.”
Underneath all of this cacophony of emotions and thoughts inside is a deep sense of rightness. A feeling that taking this journey is an act of aligning my actions with who I am and who I’m becoming. So I keep trying to take small steps forward.
Even though these steps are leading away from my expected and safe narrative.
Even though a mountain of unknowns looms in front of me.
Even though taking these steps forward will mean hard and raw realities in the coming months.
Small steps like trying to figure out what health insurance looks like outside of the luxurious benefits I’ve been living with as an elementary teacher. Small steps like trying to find people that will trust me to housesit for them through Trusted Housesitters. Small steps like trying to think through what the purpose of this blog is.
I sat down at a coffee shop a few weekends ago, attempting a first draft of this post. I opened up the blank word processing page, flipped to the page in my journal with the idea web I had scrawled out earlier, and was flooded with the distinct joy that comes when you are doing work that feels like what you were made for. In that moment, I didn’t have any of the questions answered. No logistics figured out. But I was doing the life-giving work I know I’ve been needing to pursue for a long time.
The Japanese have a word for this. They call it your ikigai. “That for which you get out of bed for in the morning.”(I first heard this in Rob Bell’s new book How to Be Here. So good.) Passion. Calling. Vocation. Purpose. Call it what you like, but aligning all aspects of your life with what makes you fully alive is so deeply important. The creative act of making a life in which you can flourish is the joy of being human. For me right now, a lot of my ikigai is found through the process of creating this blog.
Doing the work of clarifying what my ikigai is has been a long process. One that I’m still in the midst of defining. I think it started when I went on a “solo-cation” to Omaha this fall. I started to sense that this might be my last year as an elementary teacher. In the quiet space of that weekend, I asked my soul, “if not teaching, then what?” And my heart timidly responded, “I’d really like to write, please.”
To be honest, I was a bit bewildered at my own response at first. While writing had been a part of the fabric of my life for almost as long as I can remember, it had mostly been a private affair. Journaling was a necessity, processing out loud the interior and exterior things I was coming up against. But I’d only been blogging, sharing some of those musings out loud, intermittently over the past few years. It was the spark of joy that came from crafting words together and sharing them with others that ignited something that is now changing the course of my life.
Not that there are any guarantees. No promise that quitting my career as a teacher to pursue writing will get me anywhere. That’s not what your ikigai is about. I have no idea if I will “Make It” as a writer. I have no idea if this is a Viable Career Path. But I do know that I feel the most healthy when writing is a part of my rhythm. I know that I feel purposeful in this work, even in the mundane, tedious aspects of it. This isn’t that thing I would try if I knew I couldn’t fail, like those motivational bumper stickers say. This is the thing I am trying, even if I do fail. And that’s how I know it’s my ikigai.
After the initial spark of inspiration in Omaha, there were still seven months in the school year. Seven more months of trying to figure out exactly what I was going to do in this quarter life crisis of mine. They say 90% of figuring out what you want to do is figuring out what you don’t want to do. Engaging in that process over the last few months has meant slowing down long enough to listen to what I am feeling drawn to, and distinguishing that from the noise of everything else. It has been a process of opening up to possibility and risk, but also practicing the bravery of setting boundaries and saying no to good things. I wanted to articulate some of the conclusions I’ve come to about Allie Illuminated with you.
I’ll start with what this blog isn’t. It’s not my intention for this blog to be an online journal where I only chronicle and process my life. While showing up on the page week after week on this blog has been deeply helpful for my own growth, that is what my personal journal is for.
Neither is it my desire to curate some formulaic how-to blog for working remotely and traveling around the country solo. I don’t claim to have all the answers, nor do I want some enviable online presence that portrays a myth that I’ve got it all figured out. In my present state, I can’t claim any expertise, but I can say that I’m trying to live the questions. In this blog, I’m hoping to voice those vulnerable questions aloud. I think my ikigai right now is creating things that bring those connective and so needed for the human soul moments of “Her too? Oh, I thought I was the only one!”
Allie Illuminated is a why-to blog about aligning all aspects of your life with that which makes you feel most alive. Rather than a formulaic how-to blog, this is a space where I’m sharing my vulnerable thoughts in the journey in hopes that others will connect, and I’m asking the questions aloud in hopes that others will engage with those questions and step into their own stories.
I’m not claiming to have it all figured out here. With so many unknowns, I can only lean into trusting that God’s got me. I’m not even claiming to have my blog’s branding identity all figured out right now. But it’s a starting point. A step in the right direction.
Continually, I’m having to practice a posture of openhandedness, even as I start to make plans, making peace with all the uncertainty. It has been messy these first two weeks for sure. One foot is stepping out into this unknown, excited about all the possibilities. The other is planted in fear, wanting to try and have the perfect plan all laid out before moving forward. And there are so many moments of lonely self-doubt. But the more I talk to others that have gone before me, that security blanket of perfect plans doesn’t exist. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, but you, dear reader, are welcome to come along for the ride.