The Ikigai Explorer

Article 4: Using Adventure to Heal and Reset Purpose

Introduction

There are moments in life that crack us wide open, sudden losses, heartbreak, job collapse, or betrayal. These aren’t the moments we ask for. But they often become the turning points where everything changes, because they force us to confront who we are without the roles we’ve relied on. This article is about how I’ve used exploration as a means of healing and reassembly, how stepping into the unknown physically can help reset the emotional compass when everything else falls apart.

A Necessary Escape

Not every expedition is about discovery. Some are about recovery.

There have been two major points in my adult life where travel didn’t just help me grow, it helped me survive. One was during a season of health struggles that left me feeling powerless and adrift, and another was after the loss of my Mother and a difficult breakup. Both times, I needed distance from routines, from people, and from worry. I needed to push myself into situations that forced me to be present in the moment and get out of my head, which was either reliving the past or concerned about the future. I needed to remind myself that I was complete on my own and capable in the moment. 

The first time I was facing health concerns that were lingering and frustrating, I knew I needed something to shake me loose from the feeling of waiting and worrying. So I went on a motorcycle journey through Peru. I rode through canyons and colonial cities, visited ancient ruins, and once again, documented it all. It wasn’t the most sensible decision, but I needed to feel myself again. I needed movement. It’s as if change on the outside sparks renewal on the inside.

Years later, I learned that when you lose someone through death or a breakup, often what makes it so destabilizing isn’t just the loss of connection, it’s the way it calls into question your very identity. We all start to blend ourselves into the people we spend time with, into the jobs we take, into the life we build around those anchors. When the anchor disappears, we drift.

A friend gave me a strange piece of advice that stuck: “Go watch Indiana Jones and remember who you are.”

It sounded silly at first, but I knew exactly what he meant. I wasn’t just mourning the end of a relationship; I was mourning the version of myself that only existed in that shared story. The explorer, the storyteller, the curious mind? He was still there. I had just forgotten him.

So I packed a bag and flew to Nepal.

That trip wasn’t glamorous or luxurious. It was a reset. I wandered temple courtyards and narrow alleys. I hiked through mist-covered mountains with a journal in my pocket and a camera in hand. I wasn’t escaping life, I was returning to it. Returning to my life. To a version of myself that had existed before the relationship labels. The one who is happiest in an ever-changing and unknown environment. Thinking on my feet and living in the moment.  

The truth is, travel doesn’t fix everything. But for me, it reminds me why I want to heal in the first place. It reconnects me with awe. With presence. With the idea that even in uncertainty, the world is still full of beauty and possibility.

Lessons from the Wreckage

It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never felt broken just how much the right trip can put you back together.

I don’t mean booking a resort. I mean pulling yourself into a place where you’re no longer defined by who you were, and slowly rediscovering who you are.

In those moments, I return to what I now know is my Ikigai:

• I love exploration.
• I’m good at storytelling and documentation.
• The world benefits when we tell the truth of our journeys.
• And I’ve built a life where I can earn (or at least sustain) myself doing it.

But I wouldn’t have arrived there without being broken first.

We often imagine our paths unfolding through clarity. But sometimes, clarity only arrives through collapse.

Reflections

When life shatters, ask yourself:

• Who am I without my job, title, or relationship?
• What places, environments, or experiences have historically made me feel whole?
• Have I ever considered leaving town not to escape pain, but to reconnect with purpose?
• Am I living as the person I admire, or just playing a role for others?

We don’t always choose our crises. But we can choose what we do in their aftermath.

Closing Thought

There’s a strange beauty in being broken open: it lets the light in. You see yourself differently. You question what matters. You stop chasing the wrong dreams and start listening to the small voice that’s been whispering all along.

Adventure won’t erase pain. But it will remind you that transformation is always possible.

Looking Ahead

In the next article, we’ll dig deeper into the idea of identity and how we often mistake our job titles or external roles for our inner truth. If you’ve ever felt hollow despite success or unsure who you are without a role to play, this next article is for you.