To univeristy and back again: 4 lessons about work... and life !

In 2019, I celebrated my 3rd year of facilitating change and coaching teams and individuals to all four corners of the world. I had gained experience I never could have imagined. As senior consultant, I was supporting young talents in my team, coaching CEOs and taking up responsability on exciting projects. I also made the less enjoyable experiences of having planes canceled and sleeping in airports, of losing lugage and facilitating in someone else's clothes (thanks again Anna Rollet ??). Once, I packed 3-week worth of clothes in a tiny suitcase to go from freezing Bruxelles to snowy Shanghai then steamy Bangkok. Needless to say that life was far from boring.

This intense and fulfilling life made it even harder to listen to this little, but so persistant, inner voice who was whispering about forgotten dreams. Patiently though, she brought back to the shore of my memory a dedace-long yearning for anthropology. Not as a "hobby", not as a side-quest. As a real fulltime committed deep dive.

In March 2019, I clicked the validate button on my application to the University of Sussex . A couple weeks later, I was admitted to their Anthropology of Development and Social Transformation MA. Becoming a student again was dauting and exhilarating, and I jumped in fully. Never had I been so sure of anything else. It was this so-often longed for feeling of "just right". I plunged in and discovered how self-confident, how efficient and resolved I am. In September 2019, I entered the campus as a student, and came out a researcher.

Here are four precious lessons that I'm grateful to have learnt along the way.

?? “Everything is already here”

It was one of these rainy November evenings, like Brighton seems to have the secret. But this particular night, the sky looked like a supportive friend, mirroring my bubbly thoughts rumbling around the first semester assignment. I was walking through the campus to meet a lecturer and present her with my “big idea” for this essay.

I had elected to write about masculinities — not men, not masculinity but the variegated ways in which our post-industrial European societies provide scripts to enact what it means to be a “man”… and how these scripts are valued and changed over time. As a young woman raised in a peasant/working-class background, this chosen topic stirred emotions I had not anticipated to feel. My desire to do well, to do “right” was very high… as was my fear of failing to say anything meaningful.

It is in the midst of this state of mind that my beloved lecturer gave me the best advice I have (to this day) ever received about completing a project close to my heart. She listened very closely to the whole presentation I made, sitting at the edge of her chair, glimpsing at my messy and doodly notes. She waited until I finished, then sat back and calmly said: “Everything is already here”. I wasn't sure what she meant. She continued: “You dived deep into the topic, formulated your question and did extensive readings and research — everything you need is already here”.

I left her office with clearer mind and heart. I had done all the hard work, now all I could do was to tell the story, the stories that my essay question and gathered material would inspire me to tell.

“Everything is already here” is a soothing advice, one that encourages us to close our eyes, take a deep breath and feel ours abilities and knowledge. It is one that I pass on to my clients when we take a step back together to consider all the resources at hand. Be it a rich legacy from which to draw knowledge and wisdom; an incredible team of talented people to craft a strategic vision; or simply a powerful and confident voice to tell their unique story — everythig is already here.

?? Your unique perspective is a gift (from and) to the collective

Human brain as we know it has been roughly the same since 35’000-100’000 years. Which means that we, humans, have been feeling, thinking and experiencing life in similar ways for hundreds of generations. This thought alone makes you wonder about how original one can be about anything. Here I was, thinking that we each had a leading role in conducting change and transforming ourselves and institutions; only to be reminded that our forebearers snapped the spotlight right off us by coming through much more dramatic adaptations than we can ever experience. And same goes in academia ! How many millenia, centuries of knowledge and wisdom passed down to us, on any given topic ? Yes, diving deep into the extant can be an overwhelming swim… and so is making a contribution to it.

But what if I told you that we’re looking at it all wrong ? The concept of individual, through which we commonly operate is very useful but ultimately, it is what it is: a limited concept. Can we really think of ourselves as individual totally insulated from the rest of the world ? From the care of our family and friends ? From the inspiration of our colleagues ? Because these questions stuck with me for most of the first months of my master’s programme, I decided to write a whole essay about it and ask the question bluntly: how can we ever pretend authoring anything when most of our written work stems from thinking done before our time and data provided by “participants” — who should then be considered co-authors ?

Composing this essay was an intensive and exhilirating journey. The more I was reading about the topic, the more I was feeling infused with thoughts from people who had preceeded me. I was having conversations with them, simply by the mediation of books and articles that they had left me with. I was engaging in dynamic thinking exercises, it felt like playing with sounds and colours. It felt like painting a small piece of a wall started well before my time.

And my classmates and peers were composing it with me. Inside and outside the classroom, every chat was hinting at an angle I hadn’t seen before. Every passionate debate, every spirited conversation was an occasion to explore paths that would transform my way of looking at my essay question. Every talk was a transformative hike, and “I” was gaining some perspectives as much as I was shedding others.

This experience made me realised how much we are nourrished by collaborative thinking and caring. How much in turn, “I” can contribute to nourrish and care for others, and contribute to common goals. It isn’t so much our individuality that makes us special, but our unique perspective, chiseled by the tides of the collective, that we offer back, like a gift.

?? Work hard, rest harder !

If you’re still reading, you’ll have understand by now that I’m deeply passionate about what I do. Discovering facilitation and training as a facilitator gave me a massive impulse into change management consultancy back in 2014. And taking a leap of faith to study anthropology in 2019 was no different. Passion is the flame that patiently heats up my projects and visions. I’ve learned to trust the way it simmers and boils together ideas and thoughts, sounds and colours; and allows me to form plans I would have probably scoffed at ten years ago.

When the circumstances are just right, this passion brings me in a magic zone of focus and purpose. The rest of the world fades away. I can read and take notes for hours and hours, elaborate plans where combined ideas respond to each other and speak of original perspectives. I can shift medium and talk my thoughts out loud into a voice recorder, to let the words flow better, to hear them ring as they come out of my mouth. The same hum is with me when I facilitate a workshop, and we all, facilitators and participants, come into a newborn group. Full of possibilities, all excited and curious to discover what we can create together.

I live for these moments. When everything feels aligned and I just have to waltz in harmony with it. Whether I’m writing, facilitating or coaching — it just all feels right. I know how rare that experience is and I never can take it for granted. Nor should you. It is all too easy (and tempting) to fall into the traps of the “rise and grind” mentality, the “work hard, play hard” motto. Especially when you love what you do, and do what you love. Truth is, this constant intensity will leave you depleted and drained. And there’s a chance it’ll make you fall out of love with what first animated you.

Humans are inherently creative beings. We find ways in the most impossible situation and cooperation only makes us more innovative. Except that, for this creativity to flourish, you often need to let it be. During my masters, that meant that I sometimes had to force myself to put the books down and take a walk in the nearby park — or indulge in a nap ! It never happened without guilt, but if you had seen how replenish my brain was, how fresh and clear my mind would feel. It was all worth it. It always is.

So grab your calendar, right now, and plan for this you-time. Feel as guilty as you need about it, but afterwards: give thanks, profusely. It'll only make next time easier.

?? Never stop starting again

Ultimately what this year of going back to university has taught me is to never stop starting again. It is a clumsy phrase but bear with me. We're always encouraged to be daring, to follow our passions and excel. We're always prompted to make our dreams a reality, to "live our dreams and dream our life". If we're lucky enough to have a chance to: we try, we give it a go. And when it doesn't turn out exactly the way we thought it would, or when it just cannot turn out the way we wanted, we stop. And we move on. I moved on. At least, I thought I had.

I thought I was done with university and was on my way to pursue this succesful career of mine without interruption for the forseeable future. I thought I was on tracks and wouldn't budge for another five to ten years, at the very least. I thought I was done with having an unconventional, rollercoaster career. Every extra month was getting me closer to reflecting a steady course to people I'd meet. With no slash, no complicated story.

But I had been lured as much as I was luring myself. Lured into thinking that life was linear, and passion projects too. Lured into believing that whatever I started and didn’t finish in one breath was not worth much. False. Every step, however small, is worth the world. Each little link holds the whole together. I picked up my first book of anthropology when I was 15 years old and was instantly fascinated with the potential of this discipline to ask life-shattering questions. It took me another 10 years before I even formed the idea that I could study and practice anthropology. In the midst of me having a succesful facilitator career.

Some calls just do not give up on you. Nor should you stop answering them. If you have a passion, if you have a persistent longing idea, if there is something that you really want to accomplish in your life, then never stop starting again. Keep nudging into that direction. It might take months, years or even decades. But it’s always worth it to pick up where you left off. Towards the summit of your mountain.

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??? Thank you so much for reading me to the end, it means a lot. Please feel free to drop me a message if you'd like to share thoughts on this article or chat about the next step you've been contemplating towards this exciting project of yours... or towards your long-felt dream. ???