‘Do it anyway: the need for resilience when pursuing your Ikigai’
Woke up and didn’t want to do it. Any of it. Didn’t want to get out of bed. Didn’t want to get back on the job hunt, that triple joy of networking, jobs boards and LinkedIn, and finding a head-hunter who would take on a white, near fifty-something man. Didn’t want to go for the walk that would clear my head and help me get on with my day. Didn’t want to apply for compensation for the epic delays and cancellations of last weekend’s trip to Anfield to see my beloved Liverpool FC. Didn’t even want to write. Wasn’t having any of it. Didn’t. Want. To. Do. It. And so? Did it anyway. Even the walk back up the hill, where normally I might just take the bus. The hill a great analogy for pushing on despite the steepness of the challenge.
In times gone by I may well, more often than not, have succumbed to that part of me that simply didn’t have the resilience — the ‘kishkes’ as said in Yiddish — the drive, the determination to do it. Today, I did it anyway. Leant into what I was feeling, acknowledging it, and hearing it patiently, understanding that it perhaps came from fear, from my inner child and those adult parts of me still healing. And, as you might with a young child who didn’t want to do something you know is good for them, took myself by the hand and simply did it anyway. An ever-stronger, more frequently repeated but still emerging choice.
Now that might sound fairly routine, ordinary, and run-of-the-mill for some. Maybe you built that resilience as a child? Maybe you have developed ways of not allowing your feelings to override your better self? Mabe you’re thinking ‘That’s no big deal, what’s he on about?’. And maybe it’s just the way you’re built, like my Dad, still up and out at 7.00am this morning, on the day of his 54th wedding anniversary. Maybe that’s part of what’s got him to the cusp of eighty years old and kept that marriage strong and alive? But for some, believe me, it’s a game-changer when you tap into that part of yourself that starts to consistently make better choices, no matter what you’re feeling. To those in that camp, whatever stage on your journey you are in, I salute you. Bravo. Resilience piece-by-piece, brick-by-brick, step-by-step.
On this walk, wondering what I would write about today, I was reminded by the cherry blossom of one of my favourite Japanese concepts, that of ‘Ikigai’. Like many Japanese concepts it is deceptively simple but incredibly rich in substance and depth. It’s the secret to a fulfilled, purposeful, happy life. For newcomers to this concept — or those seeking a refresher — I would most definitely recommend Héctor García and Francesc Miralles’ wonderful book, ‘Ikigai: the secret to a long and happy life’.
At its heart Ikigai offers that if you can find a career or dedicate your life’s work at the intersection of four principles, you will be in flow and at peace, fulfilled and happy. These are:
· What the world needs
· What you are great at
· What you truly love, and
· What you can earn from
It’s a great framework and one I still return to often, alongside another amazing Japanese concept, that of Kintsugi, also known as Kintsukuroi. Meaning “golden joinery” and “golden repair” respectively, it is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer, dusted, or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. My understanding of this concept being that ‘that which was broken becomes even more beautiful when repaired’. And having understood that, to make sense of what that means in terms of the ways we fall and get broken at times, and through getting back up and repairing ourselves, we step into a life more beautiful, becoming even more powerful and accepting of self.
A dear friend of mine — let’s call him Harry — and I have often talked about this in pursuit of our own Ikigai. He, a man equal parts inspiring for the hills he climbs in his life, and guiding, partly through his own example, but also his generous nature. The perfect example being how — and I still don’t quite know how it happened or how he did it — he nudged, cajoled, coached, encouraged, and pushed me just the right amount to get me from couch potato to 10km racer, and all the way to the finish line of the New York Marathon some twenty years ago, in just nine months (from couch to finish line, not start to finish of the marathon itself, I hasten to add).
Got injured a month before the race. Did it anyway. Barely made it round in nigh on six hours, much to the amusement of friends and family. But despite that gentle mocking, I politely remind them they have still not run one. And I did. Did it anyway. For me. I ‘beat the bus’, a chastening but motivating coach that scoops up those who falter and fall short along the way. Another dear friend of ours has, I believe, run 85 or so marathons, well on his way to notching a century. His best time of 2 hours and 30 minutes or so truly incredible. Yet Harry and I still sit in the same category as him: we are marathon runners. Finishers. Marathoners. Resilient.
In one of our life-affirming chats Harry once suggested that perhaps Ikigai could be integrated with ‘Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs’, and we arrived at it possibly looking almost like a windmill sat atop Maslow’s pyramid. From the bottom of the hierarchy upwards, those needs identified by Maslow in this framework are outlined as:
· Physiological
· Safety
· Love and belonging
· Esteem, and
· Self- actualization
All of which has bubbled away over the years and led me, also integrating the concept of ‘Saturn Returns’ into my not-meant-to-be-grandiose way of simplifying life. If you’ve made it this far and are willing to travel the final leg of this article, I would love to know what you make of it. Saturn Returns — as I’ve written about before — marks the transit of Saturn, the planet of change, around your birth chart every 29 years.
Approaching this milestone for the first time, the transition starts at 28, peaking at 29, and then fading away at 30. It’s a period that can wreak havoc, and yet still be a great gift. Put simply, if you’re on the wrong path in any aspect of your life, Saturn has the power to disrupt it, and move you back on the right track. Heed the lessons of Saturn, make the changes that you need to in your life, and you can rebuild and grow. You can use this powerful energy to transform anything. Fail to heed Saturn’s call at 29, and it’s a long wait to 58 before you can harness that tailwind and fly.
So without any further ado, here’s my humble take on making sense of it all. If we simplify everything, it’s possible to conceptualise life as sitting on a three-legged stool. Each leg is a crucial aspect of your life, and the more stable they are, the more balanced and uncomplicated your life becomes, supporting you in your own unique journey. I see it as:
· Who you’re with
· Where you’re at, and
· What you do
Each of these legs comprises a few aspects. Who you’re with comprises your partner, friends, family, and colleagues. Where you’re at, for me, is made up of where your head is — your outlook on life, attitude, and mental state — and, also, where your feet are, namely where you live. And what you do breaks down into your career, your passions, hobbies, and pursuits.
It was through my own Saturn Return that I came to realise the havoc that that transit brought, taking out each of those three legs, and dumping me unceremoniously on the floor in a period of weeks. The opportunities this brought only became apparent to me later in life. The huge transition and changes were brutal and abrupt at the time, chaotic and mystifying, but led me to where I am today, and I wouldn’t change any of it.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried, but compared to sitting on a three-legged stool, trying to make it balance on only two is already a pretty fruitless exercise. On a one-legger, it’s only a matter of time — and sooner rather than later — you’ll hit the floor. And with no legs in place, you’re down and out for the count, on your arse, quite probably at rock bottom. So it was for me. At the peak of my Saturn I broke up with a beautiful, free-spirited, and loving girlfriend, and — having begun quite intense one-to-one and group analytic therapy — my relationships with family, friends and colleagues were also strained. I was hit by a double-decker bus (on a zebra crossing no less) — thanks Saturn! — which led me to visit my first love in Israel, and set me on a path to leave London, heading for New York. And I left my job, venturing off on my own to be a freelancer and eventually follow a dream or two. Every leg gone. But no place better than a blank sheet of paper to build from. This time from the ground up. Decent foundations.
Every leg that was wobbly or in the wrong place was swept out of the way by Saturn, and I had the gift of starting again. Today, just over halfway from that first return towards my second transit, the legs on that stool feel stronger and in the right places. I don’t want to tempt fate, and much can happen in the next eight or nine years, so let’s see. I only found out about the concept of Saturn Return some years after my transit. And I’m glad it caught me by surprise. It’s helped me build resilience. Or to put it another way, in the last of the three Japanese concepts I’m fortunate to be able to impart, ‘Fall down seven times, stand up eight’. Enjoy those tumbles, and as I tell my daughter after a bad day — wisdom built on Bluey’s Mum Chilli’s checklist for the delightful Bingo — the best thing we can do is ‘feel the feeling, wipe away those tears, stand back up, dust ourselves off, lift up our head, keep on going, and know tomorrow can be a better day’.
Final thoughts, unsurprisingly? Do it anyway, if you can, or when you can. Build that resilience and the life you dream of may well be closer to your grasp. If not, at least, you have the comfort of knowing you’re doing your best. Watch out for Saturn, but embrace his power, when he arrives. And always look twice at a zebra crossing, lest a double-decker looms.
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