This Invisible Path

There are moments in life when we are all asked to step out on pure faith.

Whenever I face one of these moments, my mind inevitably goes back to that iconic scene from Indiana Jones where he has to cross a massive chasm. The path ahead is completely invisible. It only appears, solid and real, the exact moment he has the courage to place his foot down into the empty air.

For me, this upcoming move to Morocco feels exactly like that.

I recently had the opportunity to visit my new school, explore the campus, and see the neighborhood that will soon become my new home. I’ll be honest: it was overwhelming. The sheer gravity of the transition began to settle in. But then, a beautiful thing happened.

As I walked through the streets, I was shocked by how easily my high school French rushed back to me—beautifully sprinkled with the phrases of Arabic I had tucked away from my years living in Cairo, Egypt.

“Ça va, madame?” “Oui, ça va. Alhamdulillah.”

And just like that, it felt as if different dimensions of my life were actively collapsing into the present moment. The adolescent who once studied abroad for a semester was stepping forward to meet an older, wiser, and more grounded self—a woman who feels confident navigating the rich textures of North Africa. In that linguistic bridge, the invisible path materialized. I realized: Okay, this is really happening.

Sitting face-to-face in the rooms with my new colleagues reminded me of the limits of our digital world. There is a dimension to leadership that requires physical proximity. Being there meant I could ask the direct, nuanced questions that simply don’t translate over a screen:

• What are the real wins and challenges in this particular aspect of the school?

• What does success actually look like here?

• What will it truly feel like for us to design this vision together?

Some of those questions could be asked outright; others are felt over shared couscous (as is customary on Fridays), requiring time, empathy, and observation to fully answer.

But the most critical questions I found myself asking during this campus visit were entirely internal. As educational leaders, we are conditioned to design systems that beautifully meet everyone else’s needs. But as a designer of my own life, I had to turn the lens inward:

• How will I meet my own needs in this new environment?

• What are the non-negotiable ways I will seek out joy, movement, and deep connection?

These are the essential inquiries that emerge when you practice Design Thinking– when you refuse to just survive a move and choose instead to prototype your lifestyle. While I was only in Casablanca for a few days, I made it a priority to audit the environment for my personal indicators of well-being. I managed to swim in a pool and find a piano to play—two of my absolute, non-negotiable anchors in this stage of my journey.

The data is slowly but surely coming in and it looks incredibly promising. The path isn’t fully visible yet, but the first step is solid.