The evolution of dreaming of freedom to living it
A cute little cafe in Jeju.
The Jeju leg of my Korea trip is officially over! I arrived in Seoul on Monday and am feeling a little bit like I’m back in the zone. While I was just complaining about the unbearable heat in Jeju, it’s already feeling like fall in Seoul—a potent reminder that nothing is permanent.
In my last post, I reflected on wanting to focus more on purpose. I’ve been thinking a lot about this and realized that the urgency for this comes up when I’m in Korea because of the very visible wealth inequality. It’s hard not to feel the weight of how unequal and unfair the world is. Perhaps because everyone looks like my grandmother or dad, my empathy is supercharged any time I have an interaction. When I see an elderly woman selling vegetables in the unbearable summer heat or a man older than my dad driving me to my next vacation spot in a taxi, it’s hard to not feel a sense of guilt. Why should I have it so easy while someone else has to work so hard? Jeju is a prime example of the huge gaps between the thousands of locals who have to work all day and night to make ends meet, while fabulously wealthy international travelers spend more in a day than locals make in a week or month. I think of my own aunt and uncle who are in their late 70s and still working. They are both self-employed, so over the course of their lives, they’ve rarely taken vacations. They raised four children but still have not decided on when they will retire. How can I tell them that I am on my fourth annual 3+ month trip as a 32-year old? Perhaps it is the guilt that is holding me back from reaching out and letting them know I am back in town.
I saw a post the other day that said to remember that not too long ago you desperately prayed for all the things you have today. And it’s absolutely true. Just a few years ago, how deeply did I dream of being able to leave corporate America without looking back? Back then, being able to spend extended time in Korea seemed like a faraway dream because any trips would be limited by PTO. But somehow, within two years of planting the seeds of that dream, I took a year long mini retirement and since have spend a quarter of the year in Korea annually. I take for granted the freedom I have to do anything I want, whenever I want.
In his book, Four Thousand Weeks, Oliver Burke makes the argument that without commitment, freedom is meaningless. He writes: “[y]ou have to choose a few things, sacrifice everything else, and deal with the inevitable sense of loss that results.” This speaks to the heart of what makes my freedom feel empty at times. It’s no surprise, as I’ve contemplated and written about my fear of commitment. What feels like “settling” is actually making a choice to commit to one path rather than keeping all options, even potentially better ones, open. Burkeman argues that committing to a specific line of work or partner gives life meaning, structure, and depth, while complete freedom, where we keep all options open means never investing in and in turn, enjoying the joys of choosing. In the pursuit of attempting to preserve better future options, it seems that I’ve built a life that feels untethered, without the roots of commitment to ground me.
For the first time in my life, “freedom” as I’ve defined and desired, feels unsettling, rather than empowering. In just a few weeks away from home, I realize how much I appreciate routine, structure, and stability. It’s ironic since I had grown quite bored of these very things while I was home. And I know that once I do go home, I’ll miss the adventure and independence that come from solo travel. The grass is always greener on the other side, which is why we need to water wherever we want it to be green. Ultimately, it’s about being able to balance both desires and incorporating the best of both into daily life, so that you create a life from which you don’t need to take a vacation. This is the natural process of dreaming of freedom, to actually achieving it.
Now that I am back in Seoul and feeling more in my element, I’m excited to work on some projects and practices that can serve as steady pillars in life regardless of where I am. There are no silver bullets in life and while I’m recognizing this is in real time, I’m ready to water this little spot I am in right now.