It’s only a break if I choose to see it that way.

It’s been six months since my last day at Aimfor—six months since I last worked. When I left at the end of January, I told myself: I’ll give myself until August before I start worrying about money and figuring out what’s next. I mostly said that so I wouldn’t start stressing too soon.

Around that time, I was doing two challenges with my yoga philosophy teacher. One was called karma burning, and the other was about love. In the latter, he spoke about how we must give love in order to receive it. I remember having no energy for that—and even saying so out loud. This was after seven months off the year before, followed by just a few months back at work. Still, I was drained.

Looking back, I see now that much of that heaviness came from my work at Aimfor. Even toward the end I still loved my colleagues, and I loved my clients. But I had stopped learning, and with that, I had also stopped growing. And when growth stopped, so did my energy. It was as if my life force was being slowly dimmed.

A big part of who I am — and what makes me feel alive — is learning new things, exploring new places, and figuring things out. At the same time, I also recognize the shadow in that: perhaps part of my wound is that I don’t always dare to land, to truly sit down and stay. So for me, the work now is to hold this with a healthy outlook — to keep growing in ways that allow my life force energy to flow, without running away from stillness.

The other day my friend Max told me how different my energy feels now compared to before New Zealand. It’s like you have energy to serve since you came back, he said. He’s right. But I also knew I wanted my summer to simply be fun—a real summer vacation. And it was.

Now, having had that, I feel ready to give. In August I began working again—not for money, but pro bono. My hope is to gather feedback and experience, to build the courage to start seeing this as my work.

At the same time, I’ve noticed something else: I’ve been waiting to “return” to some kind of normal life. Work. A location. Routines. But that’s just an idea in my head, shaped by how society usually looks. Do I really need that? In November I’ll be volunteering at a Buddhist eco-village. Next spring I’m applying for a yoga teacher assistant position—where I’ll pay only for food and accommodation. I don’t actually need to earn very much. So why do I keep imagining that I must go back to how life used to be?

Maybe it’s because I’m so excited about building the Health House, and in my last company, long hours were how I built things. But maybe that’s not how this one needs to be built. Maybe there’s another way — a way that encourages exploration, learning, traveling, and continuing to nourish my soul.

What if I’m not “on a break” at all?
What if I’m simply discovering what life could look like now?