In 1999, I “retired” from my company that I’d founded and led since 1974, full of energy to go out and save the world. My future was secured—health benefits paid for life and a comfortable earn-out from the company, spread over many years, based on the continued earnings of the company. In 2000, I returned to my beloved China and Asia to help them start 12 Step programs and develop alcoholism and drug abuse treatment services in Beijing and Shanghai. I got great joy and energy from this pro bono effort.

In March 2003, I got a telephone call from the controller of my former company stating that the company was going bankrupt and in two weeks I’d lose all of these benefits. After the shock settled in, I asked the usual questions like, “How could this have happened when I left the company financially sound?” A more imminent question though came up, “How will we now support ourselves and replace these benefits?” That’s a good question but not the right one. The right question I came to after some soul searching was “What brings you alive? How do you want to spend your time now?” Sitting over my desk was the Rumi saying, “Let yourself be silently drawn by the pull of what you truly love.” But, I asked myself “What did I now truly love?”

I sat with the question for a month, pondering what I truly loved to do. An answer came to me in the form of an imperative, “Asia. The work you are doing in Asia brings you life. Go to Asia.” I responded with, “You must be kidding—after we have lost everything financially. Where would I work? How would I support the family? Where would we live? What would I do?” These are reasonable, practical questions, but my heart kept saying to me, “Get on the plane. Go. Don’t worry. All will be well.”

After months of pondering and a little planning, in January 2004, I got on a plane to Singapore. I wasn’t sure of much—whether I’d be met by friends; what work I’d do; or where I would live. My wife followed me to Singapore a month later. Needless to say, my friend and new boss, Dr. Munidasa Winslow, met me at the airport and escorted me to the hotel he had reserved for me. The next day I was settling into my new office at the Institute of Mental Health, where I was to assist in organizing the first Asia Pacific Institute on Addictions, a conference scheduled to occur in Singapore in June 2004. The Institute staff assisted me in locating and renting a wonderful, two-bedroom apartment within two blocks walking distance of the hospital. It had a lovely swimming pool where I enjoyed a nightly swim with my wife in the warm temperatures of Singapore.

My wife and I spent five months working together on the conference. We planned an agenda; organized speakers and logistics; and enrolled some of the 400 participants from 23 countries that attended the conference. There was not a day that went by that both my wife and I didn’t have smiles on our faces. Together, we enjoyed nightly inexpensive dinners at the local hawker stands, went sightseeing on weekends throughout Singapore and Malaysia, and developed life-long friendships with our co-workers. The fact that I was earning one-third what I previously earned didn’t matter. We had the time of our lives and loved every minute of the experience. We returned in July to the United States with renewed joy and energy as a couple, and for the work we had begun years previously in Asia. That work continues to this day in China, Singapore, Vietnam, Turkey and other nations.

The moral of the story is this: we had to get on the plane. We had to trust that there would be enough and that all would be well. What in your life is waiting to be born or reborn? What are you truly drawn to? What do you truly love? What is your Plan B of what you’d chose to do if you were not doing what you are now doing? What would it take to get you on the plane and discover your new life? What have you done to make your world and work so small that you no longer enjoy it?

Joseph Campbell, the great author on myths, wrote, “You must be willing to get rid of the life you’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for you.” What life is waiting for you? Is it time to get on the plane?

We close with the wisdom of Wendell Berry, who wrote, “It may be when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.”

David J. Powell, PhD, President, International Center for Health Concerns, Inc., is an internationally recognized lecturer, trainer and author. David has played a significant role in the development and operations of the Oya Bahadir Yuksel Rehabilitation Center.

We apologize for the use of the word “peckerwood” in the June 2011 edition of Counselor. Unbeknownst to us and the men’s group, the word has racist and derogatory meaning. We apologize if the term offended anyone, and the men’s group that took on the name will rename ourselves with something more appropriate.

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