Hi, everyone–

2023 has been the year of life-changing events happening in my household; I’ll just say that. (We can check in individually if you’d like more detail.) As a faculty development professional, it’s made me think about “where I want to be” in many senses. To my colleagues — relax, “where I want to be” geographically is here in Denver. Then again, there are many more layers to where one “is.”

Recently I’ve been indulging in my love for wacky Japanese fiction with What You Are Looking for is In the Library, by Michiko Aoyama. I’ll spare you my literary analysis — but I found that I connected with the “career path” theme of several of the five stories that come together in this book. (Japanese novelists often discuss careers a really resonant way. I’d love to discuss that!)

One of the stories in particular connected with conversations that I have with faculty, and thoughts that I sometimes have myself. The third story in the book (minor spoilers only) centers on a 40-year-old mother who works in publishing. She had one satisfying career highlight, but has not yet been promoted to a position that makes her feel fulfilled and recognized. She blames the restrictions that motherhood places on her, even though she loves her child dearly. When the wheels start to turn in a positive way, she reframes her capacity to better her own situation. She also realizes something that I often think about: we each have a “grab bag” of circumstances in our lives. Anyway, she ends up in a more satisfying place. She reaches her “after.”

What’s the first train of thought that runs through your mind at this point?

My mind, perhaps like yours, jumped to “How could I ever reach my ‘after’?” When will I reach the pinnacle of my career? Although I’m satisfied, will there be a time when I grow faster? Like Aoyama’s character, will I realize one day that I need to change my point of view to understand actions that are open to me? Of course, I chewed over this for a few days.

Then something else entered my mind. I don’t know if you caught a certain phrase in the previous paragraph, but “I’m satisfied.” Why do we always assume that we’re currently in the “before,” rather than the “after?” What else is there besides before and after? What if we’re in the present that we need to be in as we traverse our chosen path?

This isn’t a story about realizing that I’m exactly where I want to be, forever. I want to acknowledge though, that Michiko Aoyama’s story helped me to realize that I’m on the appropriate place on the path for where I want to go, right now.

How does that resonate with you?