At the Crossroads: Returning with Purpose

There are moments in life when the noise quiets, and the only thing left to hear is your own soul whispering, “What now?” For me, that moment came at the crossroads—a place I know intimately from both my personal journey and the work I do with others.

I teach Marcia Baxter Magolda’s theory of self-authorship in my MSHE course at Northwestern University, where we explore how adults come to define their own beliefs, identity, and relationships rather than relying on external expectations

. I’ve guided students through this framework many times—helping them name the moment when external formulas stop working and an internal voice must emerge.

What I know to be true is this: self-authorship is not abstract. It is lived.

And it’s not always easy. Especially when you are multi-gifted, deeply passionate, and raised to believe that excellence is both armor and currency.

I had reached a point where I was doing everything I was good at: coaching, Reiki, Reiki instruction, DEI training, organizational strategy, higher education work, student services—and being a deeply present, intentional mother. I poured into everything and everyone with skill, heart, and grace.

And I was tired.

In class, we talk about how the move toward self-authorship often begins with dissonance—when what once worked no longer does. That dissonance showed up clearly in my own life. Success was present. Impact was real. And still, something felt unsustainable.

The Japanese concept of ikigai tells us that the sweet spot is where our passions, gifts, and what the world will pay for all meet. But in real life, that intersection isn’t always a calm, cozy circle—it can feel more like a collision.

So I took some sacred time at the crossroads.

I got quiet. I examined each of my gifts, talents, hopes, dreams, and desires. I looked not just at what I could do, but what I must do to live well. Sustainably. Meaningfully.

This season of reflection coincided with the approach of the Winter Solstice—the longest night of the year, a natural pause point. A reminder that clarity often comes not from pushing forward, but from sitting still long enough to let the light return on its own time.

And from that place of stillness, I’ve emerged with clarity.

Today, I’m recalibrated. My energy is focused. I’m bringing everything I’ve been and everything I’ve learned into alignment—especially in my work with One Million Degrees, where I apply theory to practice in service of students’ lives and futures.

But most importantly, I’ve used this time to get to know myself more deeply and to nurture the relationships that bring grounding, joy, and meaning to my life. In self-authorship terms, my internal voice is clearer—and my commitments are more intentional.

And now? I’m ready to return to Reiki.

To offer it again as a service for you, and a returning home for me. Because when I place my hands in that sacred space of energy work, I remember: this isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am.

On this solstice, I honor the season of reflection that shaped me—and I welcome what’s next.

Let’s begin again. With purpose.

— Dr. Kim On Purpose