A quest for purpose

Sometimes you have to get a little bit lost to figure out which path is right for you…

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I’m writing this as my plane taxis for take off. A plane I didn’t anticipate being on even a couple of days ago, to a place that, if I’m honest, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to send this newsletter from.

A lot has happened in the six days since I quit my job, feeling like my work and my values were out of alignment. I won’t bore you with the details but, long story short, I was unemployed for two days before a long-hoped for opportunity came good. From next week, I’m going to be starting work as the senior producer of a woman-led daily news and current affairs talk radio show. I’ve worked there before as a freelancer, and loved it. Now, the chance to return as staff has arrived with such impeccable timing it feels serendipitous, like an opportunity to be grabbed with both hands.

That’s not why I’m on a plane right now though. Not exactly. That’s because, having accepted the job, I suddenly found myself with a week off and under no pressure to hustle. And that, of course, is when opportunity knocked.

Last week, an hour after I walked out of the office for the last time, I went for dinner with a dear friend. She was preparing to fly out to Cambodia to do a feasibility study for a clean water initiative - but the person who was supposed to be flying with her to help could no longer make it.

I’ve been trying to help a little with her amazing social enterprise, Touch, for a while now, but I’ve never had the time to join any of its global outreach projects. This seemed like a prime opportunity. And yet, as tempted as I was, I initially said no to the invite. It seemed flighty, unreliable even, to up and leave at short notice to run off on an adventure. Rich was adamant I should go but my mum guilt well and truly kicked in. I declined, but the idea kept niggling.

It quickly became clear that the mere suggestion of purpose-led travel had reignited the sense of impulsiveness that took me to Zambia to volunteer in my twenties, to visit Ethiopia’s coffee farms under armed guard for a story about trade equity in my early thirties, arguably even to launching The Flock in a pandemic. It’s an instinct that has led me into some life-changing situations. It’s what got me into journalism in the first place. And after six months feeling off kilter in my career, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it was time to get back out there, to feel like I was doing something real. Tangible. Good.

It was my therapist who eventually, at the eleventh hour, stopped me zig zagging between guilt and restlessness with a comment that hit me right in the solar plexus. As mothers, she mused, we’re so often told that our role is to be physically there for our kids. But what if our job is actually to role model a life of saying yes to opportunities, to following our instincts, to acting in line with our principals and giving back to our communities? What would you teach Arthur, she asked pointedly, if instead of staying home, you went?

Which is how I now find myself on a plane to rural Cambodia to meet with a non-profit that provides clean drinking water to schools, maternity clinics and hospitals in a district where 8% of children die before their fifth birthday.

I have no idea where I’m going or where I’m staying. I know only that we’ll be met at the airport by the charity staff who do know what’s happening. I may or may not have Internet but I have a pen and a camera. I’m ready.

Indeed, I’m starting to remember that I always was. I just need to remember to follow my gut…

I’ll be posting about this trip here and on Instagram @join.the.flock when I can. Want to be a part of the conversation? Please follow along, like, share and subscribe.