Living and Learning: Feeling Free

The morning I wrote this column, I was driving home from the studio after my 6 a.m. yoga class, when I made a sudden U-turn and stopped at a Starbucks for some coffee, breakfast and a little change of scenery.

That whole week, I had intentionally shut myself up in my study, finishing articles back to back, never venturing out of the apartment, save for my morning or evening yoga class. For two weeks, I had to turn down a lunch invitation from a former colleague because I was swamped by work.

So today seemed like a good day to take a little breather and write this column about going freelance.

Yes, I am a freelancer.

For some, going freelance sounds like an excuse to escape the daily grind of a full-time job, though they might be less judgmental if they could see my workload. In February, hours after I gave my three-month notice at work, a former colleague called all the way from the United States to frown on my decision.

"You're too young to retire," he said.

"Didn't I just tell you I wanted to continue writing?" I responded. I sensed his skepticism (and expectation that I would change my mind before the end of the awfully long three months).

This is the reason I did not tell my parents about this latest career move until two weeks after my last day at the office.

My father, who built a solid 27-year career in a government bank, and who is still going strong at a private company at the age of 66, had understandably expressed some reservations when I softened the ground over the past few months and told him I was thinking about taking a break from work.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, I've been a print journalist for 12 years. I've gone through a lot of things and I feel a little tired, physically and mentally," I said, trying to sound all grown-up and sensible, to avoid reminding him of the 14-year-old who one day refused to attend private Japanese lessons because she was turned off by the teacher's timidity.

"Plus, I want to try other things," I said.

"What would you do?" he asked.

"I will write freelance and teach yoga. I'm already teaching now, so I'll just do more -- that gives me some steady income."

To others who inquired about my reasons for quitting, I gave a similar line, though with varied elaborations depending on who I was talking to.

To a close friend: "I want to have more time to teach and practice yoga."

To an old friend on Facebook: "I want to salvage that old book project or start a new one."

To my husband, followed by a list of reasons: "I am disillusioned with daily journalism."

To a former yoga teacher at whose studio I now teach: "I want to spend more time with my sister, who is going through a painful separation."

To another friend: "I want to tidy up my house and finish that meditation room project."

The truth is, these reasons are all true. But the more reasons I came up with, the more I realized they were not for other people.

These are the things I told myself when I woke up at three every night for weeks, unable to go back to sleep, before finally making that decision.

I had a good upbringing and education, but I do not have a big trust fund to fall back on. I worked to supplement my allowance while attending college overseas, and since my first journalism paycheck, I have never received any money from my parents.

My husband and I live a comfortable middle-class life, both making a decent living, with no kids. We have a mid-sized apartment, drive our own cars and enjoy hobbies like scuba diving, but we also have to share the mortgage payments. Though I have been saving up for some time with this goal in mind, I thought a lot about the financial consequences of quitting my job, and discussed them with my husband.

Thankfully, he understands.

He was there all the times I came home from a disaster or conflict area feeling shut off from my surroundings. He sensed my growing reluctance to go up to people who had been thrown into absurdly painful situations to extract quotes from them. Quotes that may or may not be used in a story at the end of the day.

"Maybe if I were there to help them instead of to talk them into talking, I'd feel better," I told him once.

Whatever the reason, it is a break I needed. I need to clear the space in my head and my mind to carve out something I believe in. One of my yoga teachers said that your job is your "karma yoga", the discipline of action or deeds, until you no longer believe in it. By then, you're a hypocrite.

There were times when I did feel like a hypocrite.

My existential restlessness or, some may it an early mid-life crisis, appears to be prevalent among my peers.

In recent years, some of them have quit their well-paying job to pursue their dreams – whether it is to run their own business, go back to school, or seek a life more meaningful and spiritually rewarding.

Around the same time I resigned, two journalist friends of mine left their jobs at foreign news agencies, one to become a documentary filmmaker, the other to go back to school.

Two years before, a close friend sank her life saving after quitting her executive job to open up an educational centre for kids. She gave herself a salary less than a fifth of what she used to earn.

And for every person I know who is happy at their current station in life, there are many who expressed envy for my decision and said how they wanted to do the same.

Call us foolish, whimsical or irresponsible – but can you blame a person for believing there is something more to a job than good money at the end of the day?

Ironically, my days as a freelancer have so far proven to be busier than when I was a full-time journalist -- which means I can maintain a decent income -- and I love every minute of it.

I am again falling in love with writing, my oldest passion, after seeing it more like a chore for the past year. And teaching yoga is one of the most rewarding activities.

I keep a disciplined regimen at home that is even stricter than my office days. I used to show up at the office at 10 a.m., at the earliest, spend almost an hour checking email and social networking sites before making lunch plans with friends. I would eventually start working in the afternoon, closer to deadline.

Now, I begin my work early in the day, making sure I shower first (so, no, I don't work in pajamas, only in shorts), and finish earlier, too. After lunch at home, by mid-afternoon I generally wrap up the day's work, and feel all accomplished.

It is a mighty good feeling.

+ Devi Asmarani

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