Author: Heidi Esther

How can you refind your ground and joy when thrown into unknown territory?

My heart pounded louder and louder in my chest. I hunched over on the bed, a large friendship bracelet-in-progress pinned to a pillow, knotting and knotting like I was behind quota. Breathing in for four counts, holding for four, and out for eight. Letting the pause after the exhale settle into the stillness of a pond. When my heart didn’t settle, I turned my ears to the outside.

Two unfamiliar noises filtered in through the single window. The first sounded like rain on my window (my favorite!) but was the wind whipping through palm trees. Second, I heard bright, warbling chirps that reminded me I wasn’t in Kansas, er, Illinois.

Hawaii.

Why me? Why now? Why this?

I’m like a fish out of water. Complete Unknown Territory.

These questions shook the shoulders of my sleepy, family-vacation brain. One used to only coming up for air to hand out fresh Twizzlers, help everyone pack a lunch, and put dinner on the table.

It had been a landmark week. Snorkeling with turtles. Kid surfing lessons. Chocolate-covered Macademia nuts. AAA-mazing beach days. Connecting with my kids in the corners of the day.

Yet, sitting on the bed, weaving the bracelet, my heart pounded. I felt the worry lines dig further into my forehead crease. Why these questions?

The night before, my wife and I went to listen to a native Hawaiian storyteller. We learned of the parts the United States and native Hawaii both played in becoming a state. (Neither side of the story is flattering, fyi.) We learned of cultural erosion, the land abuse, and the mental and physical decline in the native Hawaiian community. My highly sensitive soul cried.

With this newborn awareness, I asked, “What can we do?”

And he said two words. Words that seemed like someone gave me a piece of tape to stop a dam from breaking.

“Practice Aloha,” he pleaded. “Use our words so they are not lost.”

Now, you might think Aloha is just hello, but it’s more.

It’s a warm welcome coupled with a recognition of seeing the spirit of another divine soul. Kinda like a combination of a “Howdy, neighbor!” and “namaste.”

A few days later, we came home. My heaviest souvenirs were grief and questions that I see no answer to. I felt as an alien from a different planet. My relationship to my life, our country, this land, my purpose had shifted. At first, I busied myself to avoid the discomfort. After a week or so, I stopped being a broken, sad, complaining record to my wife and faced it. Here’s one tool I used.

Not unlike how I found joy during the pandemic shutdown, I am working on my Self-Leadership skills of Support, Resilience, Emotional Intelligence, taking Responsibility and asserting boundaries. And now I can say that I accept myself, my path towards joy, and my lack of answers with comfortable ferocity. I am, finally, at home in Unknown Territory.

I am stronger and more steadfast in my love and joy because of the discomfort and unknown and am faithful that answers will come in their time.

And that is where I plan to make camp.

Join me?

The Soul-Journer Questions for Unknown Territory

Are you trying to figure out what’s next for you? Are you ready to get at Home in Unknown Territory so you can walk towards the life of your dreams – the life you deserve? Are you ready to lean in and say YES! to more Joy, love, and impact – on your own terms?

Click HERE to dream forward to what is possible for you!

Sending much love, light, and Aloha for your travels,

Heidi Esther