It turned out that ikigai does not have to be directly associated with one’s professional life.

Recently, I received a question about ikigai. The question is: how can you get a job that matches your ikigai? Does my job need to fit my ikigai? Well, to answer that question, we need to first examine two conclusions about the nature of the jobs that appear in Ken Mogi’s and Hector’ Garcia’s book on ikigai:

1. The jobs that correlate with ikigai often are far from fancy titles and higher salary bracket.
2. The people in these jobs know what they are doing (or where they are going) and exercise dedication — or kodawari — in their field of choice.

If you take a closer look on the jobs mentioned in those book (especially in Mogi’s book), you’ll find out why; they are jobs such as sushi chef, fish broker, sumo wrestler, sweet baker, tofu maker, ramen cook, pot maker, wood crafter, and sake brewer. These jobs aren’t as “fancy-looking” as, say, a banker or a manager. However, the people who are doing those jobs know what they are doing very well, proud of what they are doing, and very dedicated in doing it.

This is because they are practicing kodawari in their job.

The Sense of Kodawari

An ikigai is often linked heavily on “kodawari” (拘り), or willingness and dedication to pursue high standard. This means taking an extra miles to do — and gain — something that is above average or even expectations. For example, the fish broker in Mogi’s book do this thing:

Hiroki Fujita, who trades in tuna in Tokyo’s famous Tsukiji fish market, is no stranger to the ethos of getting up early in the morning. He gets up at 2:00 AM, and prepares to go to work, following his usual protocols. It is still dark when he arrives at his shop in the market, even in the middle of summer. Fujita immediately starts to work in the same brisk manner he’s been accustomed to for many years. There is a special reason why Fujita gets up that early every day. As a broker for tuna fish, he needs to get hold of the finest tuna, and therefore can’t afford to miss anything important that goes on at the market. Fujita’s customers depend on him. Fujita examines dozens of tuna laid out on the floor of a special section of the Tsukiji fish market, trying to choose the best one for his impressive list of clients, most of them the top sushi restaurants in and around Tokyo.

This is a very high dedication, and, according to Mogi, kodawari plays a big part in these dedications. In order to reach such discipline, you should posses two qualities.

The first one is curiousity. To be able to pursue a high standard and engage in kodawari means that you will have to constantly learn and improve the ways you are doing thing. You will also have to adapt to changes from environment, which requires constant learning. Curiosity itself is a fuel of passion; something that motivates us to keep doing things in a refined manner. This kind of thinking goes with the Japanese concept of “kaizen” (改善), or continuous improvement.

The second one is attention and appreciation of small things. You cannot perform kodawari if your aims, aspirations, and standards are too complex or grand, so it is better to curb / limit them to a more acceptable level. The goal of kodawari in ikigai is not about achieving perfection, it is about delivering high standard that satisfies yourself and the people that are important to you (it could be your customers or your family). So, it is better to start small and take small steps little by little. You’ll feel a sense of joy when you manage to see a task through completion from process to result no matter how small it is — or as Mogi wrote, “the joy of small things”. This goes with the Japanese concept of “wabi-sabi” (侘寂) or “acceptance of transience or imperfection” of the “mono no aware” (物の哀れ), or “the beauty of things”. No need to launch off big and perfect; rather, appreciate a small start and embrace imperfection in achieving your goal.

Now, let’s go back to Fujita. Notice that Fujita isn’t interested with being a renowned fish trader. Rather, it is his passion on choosing, obtaining, and serving the finest fish to his customer that motivates him to get up at two in the morning and go to the fish market. He constantly learns how to get the finest fish and also puts attention to small details. He doesn’t aim for perfection; he aims for things that can satisfy both himself and his clients. He appreciates the small, often meticulous, process and feel rewarded after seeing the task is done. This leads him to be fulfilled and satisfied, because he is doing his reason of living — his ikigai.

The Case of Office Workers

How about office workers — the majority of people whose job do not seem to match their ikigai? Well, actually, Mogi literally wrote in his book that an ikigai does not have to be directly associated with one’s professional life. In short, your job does not necessarily have to reflect your ikigai. This is how Mogi put it:

Because employees in modern Japanese companies are often not fulfilled by the work they do, Japan is a country of hobbyists, engaged in pursuits unrelated to their day jobs. Enjoying hobbies in a big way is in a sense an exaggerated case of joy of small things. People enjoy a sense of achievement in seeing a task through to completion. To the extent that ikigai activity produces something of worth, it seems that the enjoyment of that end product is in the satisfaction of having done something—for example, eating your own home-grown vegetables. Satisfaction comes from creating something from start to finish, where people take pleasure and satisfaction in both the process and the result.

So, performing a hobby like this can also be considered an ikigai. You do not actually have to quit your job to pursue your ikigai. This is also the case of comic book writer or cosplayer who participates in a huge comic book event; a cosplayer that enjoys fifteen minutes of fame will not quit their daily job.

Some employees do take a step further by resigning from their secure, yet unfulfilling job. They are called “datsusara” (脫サラ) or “quitting office workers”, albeit it is quite rare in Japan where you are expected to stay within a company until retirement. A datsusara, or doing a datsusara, means that you “ leave your job as a white-collar worker and launch your own business.” Some mentioned form of datsusara in Mogi’s book: running a bar or a restaurant, becoming a farmer, or an artist. In the end, they choose the path of these professions instead of the usual routine office jobs.

Summing it up

After seeing that most jobs that involve ikigai aren’t a white collar ones and the ones with white collar do not necessarily translate to ikigai, can we say that these jobs are not really “fulfilling”? Well, not always necessarily so, it depends on your personal values or priorities, or to what extent a job will move you to do a kodawari and make you accomplish something that leads you to satisfaction. Here is a suggestion: if you think your office job is bleak and unfulfilling, start by finding small things that you can appreciate. It can be your co-worker’s friendliness or the free-flowing coffee. Start from there, and later, you can attempt to seek how your current job can provide satisfaction — both for you and people around you. If you find it hard to do so, or if it is not enough, then, do something that is unrelated to your job but gives you a sense of satisfaction, like doing a hobby or any other side activities. If such thing still doesn’t work, then, you might want to consider becoming one of the datsu-saras; resigning from your job to pursue what makes you joyful. In the end, only you can decide on what makes you happy. This is how Ken Mogi puts it:

There is no absolute formula for happiness—each unique condition of life can serve as the foundation for happiness in its own unique way. You can be happy when married with children, or when married without children. You can be happy when you are slim, you can be happy when you are overweight. In a nutshell, in order to be happy, you need to accept yourself…. Ikigai and happiness come from the acceptance of the self. The greatest secret of ikigai, ultimately, has to be the acceptance of oneself, no matter what kind of unique features one might happen to be born with.