Meant To Be

Most of my days start at 5:00 AM.

Compelled to make the day count, I move through the dark kitchen, make coffee, and carry it to my desk. To my left, a large window. Outside, snow falls. Or rain pours. Or wind rushes. Inside, just me, a cat that follows, a quiet house, and a glowing screen.

I start typing. Write about choice, perception, patterns. Memory and identity. Meaning and loss. Some days the words flow. Other days the rhythm of a schedule makes it happen. Either way, hours always disappear into text.

I do this before my workday begins. I do it on weekends before leisure takes hold. These letters created a ritual that rules my weeks.

A month ago, I paused the writing to focus on building. Backend systems. Growth strategy. Product development. All necessary work. But after a week, I found myself feeling hollow, disconnected, largely out of balance. I craved the adventure of translating research into meaning. I missed the close distance between us.

As I pick up the routine again, the feeling is unmistakable. This page is where I belong.

Do you know where you are meant to be?

Ikigai roughly translates to "reason for being." And in the "roughly" lives all the teaching.

If you have read development literature in the past decade, you likely know it as a Venn diagram. Four overlapping circles: what you love, what you are good at, what the world needs, what you can be paid for. Find the intersection, find your purpose.

Elegant. Tidy. Suspiciously mathematical.

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In 2014, a blogger named Marc Winn watched Dan Buettner's talk "How to Live to Be 100+" and encountered the word ikigai. He paired it with an existing purpose diagram, swapped "purpose" for "ikigai" in the center, and posted it online. It went viral within days.

The diagram now dominates corporate workshops, coaching sessions, and LinkedIn posts about calling. But in Okinawa, where the concept originates, the framework bears little resemblance to ikigai’s true meaning.

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Buettner's original ikigai research among the world's longest-lived populations revealed that people rarely mentioned passion or profession when asked about their reason for being. A fisherman's ikigai was caring for his grandchildren. A gardener's was tending vegetables that fed her neighbours. Modest purposes rooted in ordinary life.

This is what Western interpretations miss: purpose was not tied to identity. It was tied to care.

In 2008, Tohoku University tracked 43,000 Japanese adults for seven years. Those with ikigai had significantly lower mortality rates. 95% were still alive after seven years, compared to 83% without it. They had something worth waking up for. It was not grand, but it was theirs.

***

In traditional contexts, ikigai is described in the past tense. Elders spoke of ikigai as something revealed through years of ordinary devotion. The garden tended for forty years. The meals prepared each morning. The neighbours checked on during storms.

Meaning emerged through engagement. It formed by showing up for something beyond themselves, repeatedly, until meaning accumulated.

Purpose followed devotion and it was understood only after it had shaped a life.

***

The Western framework asks us to solve for purpose. Plan it. Optimize it. Find the intersection where passion meets profit.

I have done the exercise myself. Mapped my strengths and desires into neat quadrants. It felt productive. A blueprint to meaning is alluring.

But the Japanese approach asks something different: to recognize sustained devotion, the residue left behind by years of attention.

Ikigai cannot be found through analysis because it can only be understood in retrospect. The work is not planning forward but looking back.

This week, trace your devotions. Look at your calendar from the past month. Where did you show up consistently? What task makes three hours feel like twenty minutes? What conversation do you prioritize even when exhausted? What do you protect? What do you not negotiate?

These patterns already run your life.

Devotions can be tiny. In fact, they should be. Meaning accumulates through repetition. Your morning routine. Teaching your daughter to cook. The weekly call with your sister. Once you see these patterns, you can decide. Keep returning to them. Deepen them. Or redirect devotion elsewhere. Recognition is the beginning of agency.

True ikigai allows for seasons. What compelled you at eight will not compel you at forty. The fisherman's ikigai shifts from catching fish to teaching his grandson. The mother's from raising children to tending community. You can hold several at once. They can change as you change.

Ikigai is devotion that accumulates meaning. It is observational, not aspirational. Retrospective, not directive. Built by devotion, not blueprinted by desire.

So…what are you, my distant friend, devoted to?

The practical counterpart to today’s edition. It shows you exactly what you return to, what drives your behaviour, and where your real constraints and desires diverge. It is a structured system for seeing yourself clearly. You can unlock it through referrals.

If you prefer immediate access to the complete system, The Observer Method workbook is available in the store. It includes all four tiers, examples, guided prompts, and a full retrospective workflow you can begin today.

^{This publication is a space for exploration and reflection. Nothing in this email is medical, psychological, or therapeutic advice. These ideas are general insights on human behaviour, not treatment or diagnosis. Each reader’s situation is unique and deserves the right kind of support. If you are struggling or in crisis, please contact a licensed mental health professional.}