What happens after you find your place in the sun?
Getting there is one thing. But then what?
There comes a defining rite of passage in every Filipino highschooler’s life. It’s the moment when, pretty much, you have to answer the age-old question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
It’s senior year, right before you hand in your college application forms.
This is when parents, relatives, neighbors, heck, maybe even your dentist ask you what course you’re taking, and where you’re applying.
They’ll tell you to take this course, avoid this university because of [stereotype here], or pressure you into a career based on how quickly you can get work abroad.
Sure, they all mean well, but it can get overwhelming, and it can feel like everyone wants a say. And as a teenager, you’re barely recognizing what it is you want to say.
On life-defining decisions
When I was 16, I was studying at a science high school. And because of this, it was sort of expected that I would choose a science, engineering, or business course. Because that’s what most people did at a science high school.
But I knew instinctively - and based on my grades! - that those paths weren’t for me. And while I was deciding what courses to put down on my application forms, our teachers were busy helping us prepare, too.
My Linear Algebra teacher, Sir Chua, once took an entire session just to discuss the future, college, and some notable alumni from various fields that our school had produced. He also told us about how he got into teaching after getting bored at an office job. Unusual, since this teacher usually got straight to the point with the lectures and problem sets - he was incredibly nice, but he wasn’t the type to chatter.
What I’ll always remember the most about that day in class was this: he said, “You have to find your place in the sun.” And the way he said it, with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, you could see that getting up to make lesson plans, teach teenagers, and grade papers was truly his vocation, destiny, and passion.
And it made 16-year-old me hope that one day, I’d be that happy and blissful too, as I told others about how I found my place in the sun.
A good kind of scared
Eventually, I did find [what I think is] my spot in the universe. I took a chance on a course that no one in my family or immediate friend group was taking. Researched best as I could. Found friends in college, joined the most amazing student org, and took electives that made my heart shout, “THIS is what I want to do - become an advertising copywriter!”
A week after graduation, I was already at my first-ever job, in an advertising firm in Makati, no less! It wasn’t a copywriter post yet, but I had my foot in the door, and colleagues who welcomed me warmly. Later on, when I plucked up the courage to ask for what I wanted, my bosses told me sadly, gently, that they didn’t have room to train me as a junior copywriter.
So, I sought out a place that would take a chance on me. It was nerve-wracking and risky, job-hunting again so soon. But it would have been scarier to not try. Scarier to settle and wonder, “What if?”
A few days before I left my first job, everyone already knew I was going. The CEO (his name was JC), was having lunch with us, the staff. Suddenly, he asked if I was scared to leave and start over.
To which I said ‘yes’.
JC replied, “It’s good that you’re scared. That means that what you’re doing matters to you.”
And those words, like Sir Chua’s years ago, gave me just the push I needed to take the leap.
Ikigai and evolving dreams
It’s been seven years since I became a copywriter. And wow, it gives me a thrill just to type those words down.
Seven years.
Not everyone is lucky enough to find their place in the sun. And earn from it, get rewarded while doing it, or be sought out for it. For me, it’s not just about copywriting or advertising. It’s simply writing.
For me, it’s not even tied to a career and instead goes much deeper than that.
I like how the Japanese encapsulate this in the concept of ikigai - the intersection of what you’re good at, what you can get paid for, what the world needs, and what you love.
Apparently, your ikigai can change over time. Just like us humans do. And that’s all perfectly okay.
I’ve gone through phases where I wanted different things out of my writing. To publish a novel. To write for Inquirer’s Young Blood column. To become a Creative Director by age 30 (like 2 of my bosses did). I remember wanting to get awards and have my name in magazines. Wanting to get my MA, and apply my industry knowledge and MA knowledge to my advocacy. Most of all, I wanted to keep writing, even outside of work.
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Naturally, the rest of life happens alongside all these dreams and goals, pushing them to evolve. The way they pushed me and you and so many others to evolve. The recent pandemic, health issues, family changes, new opportunities…all these could lead you to discover something new about yourself.
Going back to the idea of one’s place in the sun, we know that it can evolve. And I think knowing that can make it easier for us to accept that we are all in a state of flux, even when it comes to something as “unshakeable” as one’s ikigai. Maybe knowing that will help us be a little kinder to ourselves, and others, too.
On this note, dear reader, I leave with you a question:
Where are you right now on your journey towards your place in the sun, your ikigai?