Life’s Sliding Doors: Finding Inspiration in Every Choice

I used to say “never” alot!

Never will I do that again.

Never will I be like that again.

Never will I be a teacher again!

But I’ve recently learned that using the word “never” can be dangerous—like sending a challenge to the universe, which often responds with, “Really, Anna?”

For years, I believed that freedom meant working for myself. The dream was to take my laptop anywhere, earning big bucks while sipping cocktails on a beach. And for a while, that dream seemed possible—desirable, even. But you have to watch what you wish for. Sometimes, the dream isn’t as rosy as it seems in your head.

Last year, I achieved a lifelong ambition: publishing my first book. I discovered how much I love writing, but I also found myself no longer yearning to be constantly on the move. After nearly a decade of a very unsettled life, I’ve become more grounded, comfortable in my home and in the familiar. And I’ve become very attached to my children, especially my granddaughters.

But as I settled, a nagging thought crept in: Am I a failure? I no longer have the drive I once did to chase that “dream life.” But then I asked myself: Isn’t it more of a failure to keep beating a dead horse?

With the need to work and keep a roof over my head, I returned to the one thing that has always come naturally to me: teaching. And yet, that feeling of failure lingered. How could I give up on what I once thought was my lifelong dream, only to settle back into a career I swore I’d never return to?

Then I realised: I’m not the person I was ten years ago—or even a year ago. None of us are. We have to look at who we are today and ask ourselves what we want now, rather than being slaves to what we thought we wanted when we were someone else entirely.

That doesn’t mean teaching isn’t tough—it is. Sometimes I wonder if I still have the strength for this relentless and challenging career that I started over 25 years ago.

A few weeks ago, I attended a weekend teaching at my Buddhist centre led by Gelong Thupten, one of our well-known teachers. I asked him, “How can we stay on the Buddhist path when life confronts us with so many challenges?”

He replied, “Bring everything onto the path. Everything is the path.”

Those words stuck with me. If teaching is my calling, then I need to make it my path.

Another lesson I learned during that weekend was to focus less on myself and more on the difference I can make. That’s a profound shift, isn’t it?

With this deeper understanding, I applied for a teaching role at a school where I had previously been offered a position four years ago but couldn’t accept at the time. Was this serendipity or coincidence? From a Buddhist perspective, it’s karma—unfinished business, perhaps.

That week, I received three job offers. Trying to make a decision was, to put it mildly, stressful. When past decisions haven’t always been the wisest, it’s easy to become stuck—paralysed by the fear of making the wrong choice.

Then, my youngest granddaughter, Lila, gave me clarity in the most unexpected way. She had just finished painting some purple flowers—an impressive piece for a five-year-old. I praised her and asked, “Lila, are you good at painting because you love it, or do you love painting because you’re good at it?”

A deep question for a five-year-old, I know. But her answer floored me: “Yiayia, you have to learn to love what you’re good at!”

And then she carried on painting, as though she’d just handed me the secret to life.

That was my answer.

It was time to stop fighting the world, to stop running away, and to roll up my sleeves. I realised that what I do best is working in schools at the bottom of the ladder, where I can make the most impact.

So, I accepted a new role leading my subject in one of the most challenging schools in the area. Because why do things the easy way, right?

Now, as I step into this new chapter, I feel both excited and nervous. The challenge ahead will test me, but I’m determined to see everything I face as part of the path. Will I buckle and run? Or will I rise to the occasion and help change the life chances of these young people?

And what if this new journey is also serving its purpose for my second book, due to be published in 2025?

That remains to be seen.