Unable to sleep, I roll over at 3 a.m. and grab my book from the floor, The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho. The book tells of Santiago, a shepherd who has been told by a king to go on a quest.

This adventure will take him to the pyramids of Egypt, where, ostensibly, there lies a treasure. In the end, of course, it’s the journey to the pyramids which constitutes his Personal Legend — the genuine treasure.

I’ve read this book several times in the past. However, it’s so packed with wisdom that its teachings can apply to wherever we are in life, making it a book we can revisit again and again.

As I read, I can’t help but wonder, have I given up on my own Personal Legend?

After moving from Japan earlier this year, I thought I’d be country hopping for some time, working and exploring. Honestly, that both intimidated and excited me.

How long can I keep up like this? I wondered while still in Japan. Applying for visas, looking for work, being alone? I knew I’d make it work, as the whimsical nature of life on the move was what I craved throughout my twenties.

Yet while it’s been one hell of a ride so far, I have had to make some sacrifices to pursue a nomadic life — such as stability, relationships, and the potential of making more money in a different career.

Has it all been worth it?

Questions and thoughts flood my mind as I turn the last page of the book. I can’t help but relate to Santiago. For the past decade, all I’ve wanted to do is wander, leaving the trivialities of normal life behind.

And now I’m no longer traveling the world like him, with little more than I can carry in a couple of bags. I’m back in America setting down roots.

It feels good. I’m with my family and friends again, building a home with somebody I love.

I’m still writing, striving to make my dreams a reality, as there remains a voice that calls to me in the small hours of the morning, stirring my soul, urging me on.

I haven’t given up on my Personal Legend. I’m looking for something, but I don’t think it’s merely another place to travel, perhaps like it used to be. Rather, it’s what has served as the impetus of my adventures all along, what all writers are striving to discover.

A story worth telling.

I’m striving to create my own path, as I want to live a different life than most. It goes against every fiber of my being to build a career trying to sell something I have no interest in, or to sit there doing work that has no substance.

Still, the self-doubt gets the best of me. Do I really have what it takes to break the mold? Trust me, I get it. I’ve worked a myriad of jobs that I didn’t feel connected to, but did because I didn’t know what else to do.

We’re all just trying to find ourselves, though we’re looking in the wrong places, only finding shadows of what we’re seeking.

We’re just trying to survive, caught up in a system that steals our very life force. It feels like there’s no other choice. That feeling is suffocating. But there’s always a choice.

I’m scared, too. Afraid of being chained to the dollar, or the ego; I don’t want to live like that. Writing lights my soul on fire; this is something that makes me feel like me, and that fire fuels my desire to be free.

These words are my truth. Sometimes they’re fueled by anger, or by sadness, or by a profound feeling of love. No matter where they come from or how they land, these words are mine, and the story they tell is my Personal Legend.

My dream is to support myself fully just from writing. I want to help others break the mold. I want you to be free. Because you see, we are free when we choose to pursue what lights our soul on fire, not when we reach the desired aim. Who knows if that’ll even make us happy in the end.

Freedom is a mindset. We can choose to be free right now. I may have to work a job to pay the bills, but I won’t accept that I’m a slave to the system; I won’t lose faith.

I know it won’t happen overnight. But that’s okay, because I know that, just like Santiago, it’s what we experience in pursuit of our dream that defines our Personal Legend, not what happens when we arrive.

On Santiago’s journey to the pyramids, he learns the nuances of working with a crystal merchant; he faces the danger of being caught in the desert amid warring tribes; he savors the eternal moments with his love, Fatima, and the wisdom of the alchemist.

It’s these experiences that Santiago will carry for as long as he lives, not what he finds at the pyramids. Still, none of it would have occurred if he didn’t have the courage to leave home in search of his treasure. So that’s why we must dare to dream. We must have the courage to decide to be free.

“No heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams,” says the alchemist, “because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.”

Today is exciting for me on the path of my Personal Legend. I’m traveling around my new town, visiting every bookstore and asking about job opportunities. I’ll also bring in my books and ask if I can sell them at their store.

The first bookstore I try my hand at is colorful and quiet. The woman takes my resume, but unfortunately I can’t sell my book there.

Across the street, there’s another bookstore with a sign out front that says Moving sale! Intrigued, I cross with my book in hand. Towers of books sprawl like a cityscape through the store.

From somewhere behind a pile, I hear welcome in. I peer behind to find a man at an old cash register, smiling with dainty glasses balanced on his nose. Are you having a moving sale? I ask. No, that’s the store next door.

The dialogue is the same: unfortunately, no job openings. I ask about selling my book and hand it to him. He reads the back, then flips through the pages.

Sure, I can sell this copy, he says. What’s the split you have with Amazon? Wait, really? I reply. 60/40. And if it sells, should I just email you? He asks. Yes, that’s fine.

He writes up the contract, 60% author if sold ($12.00).

The whole thing is sort of comical, but I’m enjoying myself. You’re the first bookstore to carry my book, I say, smiling. This is a big deal. He hands me the contract, which I later hang on my wall as a memento.

Perhaps my book will be lost amongst the endless stacks, but at least I’ll have given it a chance to find its own way. I imagine a book will be happier amongst its own than in a box at home, anyway.

I travel from store to store, greeted with enthusiasm from some employees, and with disinterest from others. But I’ve taken the step. I’ve put myself out there. I’ve done what writers do.

I’m in downtown Berkeley, one last stop on my tour. Today has been fun. I love being in a bookstore. Surrounded by words and beautiful covers, drifting in an ocean of ideas. A bookstore is a bridge between the old and new.

New books with glossy covers, a sheen denoting modern machines, narratives, markets. Old books tell a story of the quest for truth; lingering dust, nothing but words, beauty shining through the cracks of time, and what remains is the essence of the past, what individuals deemed personally crucial enough for them to pursue.

Some books grace the aesthetically pleasing display at the front of the store. Names that are known by serious readers and non-readers alike. I browse there first. Then I like to fade into the background of the store, where perhaps the titles amounted to no acclaim or notoriety in this age or the author’s own.

But that’s what’s cool about writing, something I’m experiencing firsthand: what the book amounts to is an afterthought — at least for the books I like to read.

Rather, the common thread that weaves from spine to spine through these sorts of books is the author’s quest to write a story worth telling.

And yet to write, one must first live.

The store is big, and as I amble through the aisles, I come across the travel section.

How am I going to match these greats? I wonder. How can I make it here? There’s no way to know for certain.

Though by some stroke of fate it brings me joy to be lost in a jungle of wooden shelves, exploring history, places, names, and all the while wondering — can I truly do it?

Isn’t that question enough to inspire a life? To at least dedicate myself to the path? If I fail, I will fail in pursuit of my Personal Legend. But really, the only way to fail is to never try.

Here I am. I feel the self-doubt — the constriction of my chest, the resistance. I know how improbable it is to break through as a writer and become one of the few who actually make it to the front of the store.

But I also know I have a story to tell. A unique experience as a teacher in Japan, the subject of my next book. It’s something I lived; a perspective I carry; a story I’m inspired to write.

I know I have a chance. So all there is to do is continue.

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