How running small experiments can reshape your life

Six months ago, I resigned from my job without a plan. Here's what I did next and what I learned.

Hi friends,

As some of you know, six months ago, I resigned from my job without a clear road ahead or plan on what to do next. All I had was a strong but quiet certainty that it was time for a change. It was a transition that had been calling me for some time but it was a decision that required great courage and surrender — and both of those things are very scary. (More on that journey for another post, if you want. And if you DO want to read about it, you’ll have to let me know!)

Since resigning, I am humbled to report that I have received many beautiful, wondrous, and magical confirmations in my personal and professional life since. For these, I am utterly grateful (and admittedly, a little surprised). I have quickly learned and been reaffirmed that as soon as we make space for new ways of being and doing in our lives, new worlds can emerge. If we hold on tightly to what is, we make no room for growth.

So naturally, people have been asking me for practical insights on what happened next and what I can share that could be helpful for their own journey.

In other words: What did I actually do after resigning that worked well?

First, I went inward. I know many of us want to skip this step but it’s the most essential one (otherwise, we run the risk of betraying ourselves — read my last post to know what I mean by self-betrayal and how to avoid it). I listened intently to and consciously honoured my curiosities, interests, and gifts. I realised that many of them had been there for years but I hadn’t been listening. So they had been waiting patiently for me to arrive; and when I finally returned to my true self, they flowed in alignment through my thoughts, words and actions. And people started responding to them positively, too. That is when I realised many of my passions have purpose.

Professionally, this is what it ended up looking like: continuing my advisory work but narrowing my focus to the niche that most deeply pulls at my heart and mind (religion, belief, spirituality) and where I had cultivated deep expertise over many years. It also meant beginning to mentor others, not as some kind of career strategy but as a calling (I want to help people and I knew this would be a sincere way to do so). And finally, it meant allowing myself to explore writing. Writing has been one of my companions since childhood but one that I never truly allowed myself to explore as a serious possibility for any source of livelihood.

Stepping away from the security and predictability of my job required courage, yes, but something even deeper. It demanded that I remember the source of true courage. And that is a deep trust in a Divine unfolding for me, which in turn led to a commitment to transform my uncertainties into submission. That submission then gave me the freedom to be truly curious about what I enjoy, what I’m good at, and what the world needs from me. It is from there that a spirit of experimentation was born.

Photo by Daria Durand

While I didn’t have a grand vision or rigid plan, I started to sketch simple actions for myself to explore some of my specific curiosities about writing. I first started to write more openly on social media but in the tone and style I’ve always wanted to — and some posts went viral. I then started this Substack, not knowing if anyone would care to read, and to my astonishment, some of you became paid subscribers (thank you!). I started to build confidence and said, heck, why don’t I pitch opinion pieces to a few newspapers, knowing that while I had published before, my work had mostly been academic. Within weeks, I was being paid to write for The Guardian, one of the world’s leading publications. Soon after, I was invited to write for artists exhibiting new work — an area I had never imagined stepping into, but one that felt like a beautiful extension of my craft. And in the background, some academic writing continued (stay tuned for a forthcoming publication), which still felt aligned, even though the tone and style was reminiscent of a past self.

Each step of this writing experimentation has brought equal parts amazement and gratitude. None of it was guaranteed though. I couldn’t have mapped out this path if I tried. All of it unfolded because I gave myself permission to experiment, to detach myself from any outcomes, and to (re)dedicate myself to the process of unfolding.

The lesson then friends, if there is one, is not that I am now a “writer” in any singular or permanent sense — because I am not, at least not full-time, and perhaps never will be, and that is not the point — but that I allowed myself to notice where my energy rose, to take small steps with detachment and joy, and to receive whatever confirmation arrived without clutching or fear, without the anxious belief that “this is it” or “this must mean everything.” Each confirmation, whether large or small, was met instead with gratitude and humility, with the awareness that gifts are given not to inflate our egos but to be put to use in service of something beyond ourselves.

Paying attention and experimenting led me to new and unexpected opportunities.

Following our gifts, talents, and capacities are not of our own making. They are entrusted to us as divine gifts. To honour them, then, is to recognise that they are not meant to be hoarded or buried in the ground, but to be used in the service of others. So I ask myself regularly as I continue to experiment with writing: how can I be of service?

This question has long been and remains one of my most reliable compasses, especially when uncertainty looms. And gratitude — persistent, steady, unforced gratitude — has been the soil in which every experiment has grown.

Photo by Vedrana Filipović

So, dear friend, if you too are searching for a way to live without betraying yourself, to uncover what brings you alive, perhaps do not begin with the weight of a five-year plan but instead enter with a lighter touch. Think like the curiosity of a scientist or an artist at play. Pay attention to the moments that fill you up. Ask what capacities you might place in service to others.

Write down, for example, the simplest of recognitions: “I am grateful that I can use my ‘x, y, z’ gifts, talents and capacities to meet the world’s ‘x, y', z’ needs and to do so in a spirit of service.

And then trust that what will be, will be. Or in other words: what is meant for you will not pass you by.

When you falter, as we all do, I suggest again returning to these elementary and lived questions:

• What did I notice this week that gave me life?

• What is one decision I can make now that my future self will thank me for?

• What can I release my grip on, trusting that what is meant for me will arrive in its own time, in its own way?

And as you explore these and other questions, remember that life does not demand that we know everything in advance, or at once. It asks that we pay attention, that we submit our will to a greater Will, that we step forward in faith, and that we receive whatever comes with humility and gratitude when it is good, and with patience and resilience when it is hard. The rest unfolds in its own time — and in the ways most suited to our growth.

I believe in you. I believe in us.

Thank you for being here. If any of the above is helpful to you, I would love to know. If you carry questions in your mind and heart, I would love to know them. And I ask most sincerely: how can I help?

With love,

Kat

p.s. A final thought, friends: as you experiment with your passions, expertise, and skills, please consciously resist the human tendency to compare yourself to others. Jealousy and envy can be indicators of something deeper you may be feeling a void in (and those can be interesting curiosities to pay attention to!) — but more often than not, they are simply harmful to your sense of self and motivation. I appreciate this is an elementary reminder, but nonetheless, please remember: everyone is on their own path. There is no point trying to be the perfect version of someone else’s life. You must strive to be the full realisation of who you already are.

This wonderful quote has helped me remember what is mine to find/express/realise and what is to be loved/encouraged/admired in others. Perhaps it will be of service to you, too:

“It is trust in the limits of the self that makes us open and it is trust in the gifts of others that makes us secure. We come to realise that we don’t have to do everything, that we can’t do everything, that what I can’t do is someone else’s gift and responsibility…

My limitations make space for the gifts of other people.”

—Sister Joan Chittister