We often think of “purpose” as a grand, singular destination—a mountain peak we must spend our entire lives climbing. But as I have navigated the shifting sands of the Middle East and the old, bustling streets of India, I’ve come to realize that purpose is more like a compass than a map. In Japanese philosophy, this is known as Ikigai (生き甲斐).
The literal translation is simple: Life (Iki) + Worth (Gai) = a reason for being.
It is often described as the intersection of four circles: what you love, what you are good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for. However, after reading Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life by Héctor García and Francesc Miralles, I realised that Ikigai isn’t just a career framework. It is a way of breathing, moving, and connecting with the world.
The Search for the Center
In my own journey—from the quiet corners of North East India to the high-rises of Dubai, Doha, and Riyadh—I’ve had to rediscover my Ikigai in every new city. When you live a life of “predictable uncertainties,” as I like to call it, you cannot rely on external stability. You must carry your reason for getting up within you.
Through the lens of García and Miralles’ work, and my own lived experience, here are ten reflections that have helped me find my flow.
1. Your Ikigai is Closer Than You Think
We often look for purpose in big promotions or grand achievements. But the centenarians of Okinawa find it in the smaller things of life. For me, whether it is a quiet rainy morning in Kolkata or a warm Friday afternoon in the Middle East, it could be the way light falls on a piece of architecture, or how birds hop between branches outside my window.
These are not distractions from life—they are life. If you can find joy in the ordinary, you are never without a reason to wake up.
2. Flow: The Silent Happiness
Have you ever been so absorbed in something that hours felt like minutes? That is “flow.” Whether I am sketching from a random photograph or writing a reflection, the world’s chatter disappears.
Flow becomes a quiet anchor—especially when life demands constant adaptation. It brings you back to the present, regardless of where you are.
3. Stay Active: The Myth of Retirement
The Western idea of “retirement” doesn’t quite exist in Okinawan culture. People remain active—in their gardens, in their communities—throughout their lives.
This resonates deeply with me. Across cities and countries, I have seen that the most vibrant individuals are not those waiting for weekends, but those who claim their time intentionally. I have written earlier about owning your 24 hours of the weekend—not letting it slip away unnoticed.
4. Hara Hachi Bu: The 80% Rule
We live in an age of excess—we overeat, overthink, and overschedule. The Japanese practice of Hara Hachi Bu—eating until you are 80% full—is also a metaphor for life.
When we leave space—on our plates and in our calendars—we create room for something unexpected. In my travels, the most meaningful moments often arrive in that unplanned 20%.
5. Resilience and the Bamboo Mindset
True resilience is not about being unbreakable like stone. It is about being like bamboo—rooted, yet flexible.
Life will bring its share of storms. The goal is not to avoid them, but to move through them, knowing they will pass—and leave you stronger.
6. The Power of the “Moai”
In Okinawa, a Moai is a lifelong circle of support. For someone constantly on the move, building such connections is not easy—but it is essential.
Whether it is family back home or friendships formed across borders, these bonds give life its depth. We are not meant to carry everything alone.
7. The Compound Effect of Small Habits
A daily walk. A moment of gratitude. A quiet smile to a stranger.
Individually, they seem small. Over time, they shape who we become. These small rituals have been my anchors—especially when everything else keeps changing.
8. Ichi-go Ichi-e: Once in a Lifetime
This phrase reminds us that every moment is unique and unrepeatable.
I think back to long train journeys between Delhi and Kolkata—hours spent with strangers who, for that brief time, felt like close companions. And then, just like that, we parted ways.
Every conversation, every encounter, carries that same fleeting beauty—if we choose to notice it.
9. The Elegance of Simplicity
Complexity often hides a lack of clarity. When we strip life down to its essentials, we begin to see what truly matters—health, purpose, and simple joys.
Living across places teaches you this quickly. You learn what to carry—and what to let go.
10. Purpose is a Journey, Not a Destination
Ikigai is not fixed. It evolves with time, experience, and perspective.
At one stage, mine was driven by professional growth. Today, it leans more towards reflection, connection, and sharing lived experiences. Staying open allows purpose to grow with you.
Final Reflections: The Intentional Step
The secret to a meaningful life is not hidden in distant philosophies—it reveals itself in daily intent.
These reflections are not rules, but reminders. When our actions begin to align with what matters to us, life starts to feel less like a race and more like a rhythm.
Whether you find yourself in Riyadh, Kolkata, or somewhere in between—your Ikigai is already there.
Sometimes, it is just waiting for you to notice it.
When Words Become Ways of Living — A Quiet Closing
This series began with a simple observation—that language shapes thought, and thought, in time, shapes action. What started with one idea—Shikata ga nai—became a quiet journey through a set of words that do not instruct, but invite. Over these reflections, from Shinrin-Yoku to Mottainai, from Gaman to Ikigai, I have come to see them not as borrowed philosophies, but as lived possibilities—small, steady ways of responding to the world around us.
This is where the series comes to rest—not with a conclusion, but with a continuation. These words are not meant to be remembered as definitions, but revisited as moments arise. Perhaps that is their true purpose—not to change our lives all at once, but to gently shape how we move through them, one thought, one response, one day at a time.
Other reflections in this series:
Shinrin-Yoku (森林浴) — Forest Bathing Reimagined for City Life
Oubaitori (桜梅桃李) — Each Tree Blooms in Its Own Time
Gaman (我慢) — The Art of Holding Steady When Things Go Wrong
Wabi-Sabi (侘寂) — Learning to Keep What Time Has Touched
A Friend, a Stapler, and the Meaning of Kaizen (改善)
When Words Become Ways of Living — Shikata ga nai (仕方がない)
Mottainai (もったいない) — The Quiet Regret of Waste
