current journey

Title: From Deflation to Big Magic: Rediscovering Myself Through a Charity That’s Just BeginningA few weeks ago, I found myself emotionally exhausted. The kind of tired that comes not just from long hours, but from years of pouring myself into ambitions and a career arena that no longer felt like home. I had put myself out there—vulnerably, repeatedly—only to feel ejected, raw, and deflated. The mirror showed a version of me I barely recognized; the ambitions that once excited me now felt hollow, borrowed from someone else's script.In that tender, tearful space, I started talking it out (with a kind AI companion, no less). What emerged was grief: grief for the self I'd lost sight of amid the grind, the competition, the external markers of "success." It hurt to admit how much I'd armored up, numbed vulnerability to chase the next promotion or validation, only to wake up realizing the cost was too high.Brené Brown's talks on vulnerability hit home first—her reminder that numbing the hard feelings also numbs joy, and that leaning into exposure (even when scary) is the path to wholehearted living. Then Elizabeth Gilbert's voice joined the conversation, especially through her book Big Magic. Gilbert doesn't preach suffering for art; she celebrates creativity as a joyful, curious collaboration with life itself. Ideas, she says, are living entities—energetic forms that seek willing human partners to manifest. If you ignore them or let fear shout "STOP!", they'll politely move on to someone else.That idea reframed everything. My old arena? Perhaps the idea had already left, or maybe I'd been forcing something that wasn't mine to carry anymore. The deflation wasn't failure—it was information. A gentle (if painful) invitation to redirect.And redirect I did. Toward the charity sector.What a contrast. Where corporate roles often felt like zero-sum competition—me vs. them, win or be ejected—the charity world greeted me with open arms. Supportive, welcoming, reciprocal. The work feels healing to act on, validating as early successes roll in. But the real magic? The volunteers.Having volunteers at the inception phase is pure enchantment. They're not just helping; they're co-creating. Shaping the vision, bringing skills, energy, ideas, stories—turning an abstract dream into something tangible and real. No egos battling for credit, no cutthroat stakes. Just people choosing to show up because the cause matters, because contribution feels good. It's collaborative in the deepest sense Gilbert describes: creativity thriving on generosity, play, and shared purpose rather than solitary struggle or fear-driven ambition.In Big Magic, Gilbert talks about living a life "driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear." She urges us to treat fear like a boring passenger in the car—acknowledge it, but don't let it drive. She celebrates persistence not as grinding through misery, but as devotion to the work itself, curiosity over passion when passion burns out, and service as a sustainable loop of joy once we've steadied our own hearts.This charity endeavor embodies that. It's not about me being the genius or the savior; it's about inviting others in, letting the project evolve through collective energy. The volunteers make it real—proof that ideas aren't owned by one person but seek collaborators. The healing comes from alignment: showing up vulnerably in a space that holds it gently back, where effort is met with warmth and impact is shared.Gilbert reminds us: "Do whatever brings you to life, then. Follow your own fascinations, obsessions, and compulsions… Create whatever causes a revolution in your heart." For me right now, that revolution is quiet but profound—building something meaningful with kind, generous people, in service to something bigger than ego or acclaim.The rawness from before hasn't vanished entirely; healing takes time. But the deflation is easing, replaced by a growing sense of enchantment. The universe buried some strange jewel in me, stood back, and watched as I stumbled, grieved, then followed the spark to a kinder arena. And in that pivot—from competitive exhaustion to collaborative inception—I've glimpsed Big Magic.If you're in a similar place—feeling lost in ambitions that no longer fit, raw from putting yourself out there in the wrong spaces—know this: redirection isn't quitting. It's courage. It's curiosity winning over fear. And sometimes, the most magical creations aren't solo masterpieces; they're the ones born when willing hearts come together to build something real.What idea has been knocking at your door lately? Maybe it's time to let it in—and invite a few friends along for the ride.(With deep gratitude to the voices of Brené Brown and Elizabeth Gilbert,