Notes on devotion

and building a life of sustainable depth and joy

It is the 12th century. A woman, living within a monastery, is thinking far beyond its walls. Visions of divine illumination compel her to record and transmute what she sees through music and meditations. She goes on to dedicate her life to composing, theology, and the study of the natural world. Her name is Hildegard of Bingen. By modern standards, a badass bitch.

In every sense of the word, she lived a life of devotion.

Fast-forward 850 years. We are in the age of optimisation and have access to endless choice. Life is broad and limitless, but it is shallow.

The cost of a devoted life asks you to narrow your world but expand its roots. In a world where every waking minute of our attention threatens to be robbed from us, the boldest, most beautiful act of rebellion is to devote ourselves wholly to our lives.

My relationship with faith is probably best described as spiritual. I believe in a greater purpose, in all living things being interconnected by invisible strings, and that we are here experiencing life for a reason. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more interested in drawing water from the fountains of my internal faith. And two years ago, when I hit the eject button on my life to heal career burnout, I made it my mission to redesign a life (like Hildegard’s) rooted in devotion.

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Devotion through service

After two years of housesitting, I was surprised to find that the most fulfilling part of the experience has been caring for animals. Even after that one bulldog had explosive diarrhoea, or that border collie frequently rolled in fox shit. (It’s always poo-related.) On the whole, waking up early to feed or walk these pets has given me such pleasure. Even on dark, wet mornings or during gale-force storms, I return content at the sight of wagging tails and happy animals. And as someone who is 32 and still on the fence about having children, one of the reasons I’d like to do it is to experience the deep rewards of caring for someone you can love that much.

My twenties were spent largely serviceless and selfish. I don’t regret this. In fact, of all the decades of our lives, I think your twenties should be just this. Dancing to the beat of your own drum. Testing, learning, and building a blueprint for your life. But at this stage of my life, I want and plan to give back more: by sharing lessons through this Substack, being of greater service to those I love, volunteering my time, and showing more random acts of kindness to strangers.

And when we’re not serving a higher purpose, perhaps that’s our cue to look inward.

Devotion through a vocation

I worked in marketing for over a decade, but writing always came naturally to me. I should have realised after the release of my first infamous short story, The Pig in the Wig, in which a pig needed a new wig, so he got one. The End. Who could have foreseen such early literary genius?

Pigs and wigs aside, there’s a reason people like John Williams are still composing at 94 (Happy Birthday, John). He has lived a devoted life. I’m sure there are ordinary people with extraordinary commitment in your lives who have lived long and fully by dedicating themselves to something.

Since taking my writing seriously two years ago, I haven’t wanted to go a day without putting pen to paper. It brings me such pleasure to document the everyday things I witness and to birth imaginings of worlds and characters into existence. But most importantly, the repetition and routine of sitting down and creating offers deep internal meaning, independent of external validation.

Replacing “purpose” with devotion

The P word is thrown around a lot. But it’s intimidating and kinda abstract. Because, seriously, what do you mean I have to figure out my life’s purpose? I don’t even know what I’m having for dinner tonight! Devotion, however, can evolve and ebb and flow through the many chapters of our lives. Devotion is a daily, lived experience.

As Hildegard said:

“We cannot live in a world that is not our own, in a world that is interpreted for us by others. An interpreted world is not a home. Part of the terror is to take back our own listening, to use our own voice, to see our own light.”

The world feels like a dark place right now. Looking around, there is so much that polarises us. It can feel uncomfortable to want more from our lives when so much is being robbed elsewhere. But tending to our own gardens is not selfish. It is how we remain rooted. And by building devoted lives, we can show up for others tenfold.

I’d love to know: what daily practices help you feel more devoted to your own life?

For those who want to dig a little deeper, I invite you to join me in grabbing a notebook and chewing on the following questions this week:

How can I offer more thanks for my life? E.g. saying grace at the dinner table or sending a handwritten letter to someone who has recently helped you.

How can I help others in my daily life? E.g. calling in on an elderly neighbour, visiting the house of a new parent and doing the washing up or cooking them dinner.

How can I find out what my passion is in life? E.g. recall the things you loved to do most as a child and ask yourself if anything brings up feelings of excitement. If someone gave you one extra hour a day, how would you fill it? Doing what?