I’ve known the meaning of 志生 (ChihSang) for a long time.
I’d seen the translations before.
Will. Purpose. Life. Becoming.
At the time, they were just definitions.
Nice words. Abstract ideas. Something you read, nod at, and move on from.
But now — after the miles, the burnout, the yeses I didn’t plan, the pauses I didn’t choose, and the life that unfolded anyway — I hear it differently.
Now, it feels like a calling.
志 — the will.
Not ambition. Not hustle.
But the quiet resolve that stays when everything else falls away.
生 — life.
Not success. Not outcomes.
Just the act of living. Of continuing. Of becoming again and again.
Put together, there isn’t a single dictionary translation,
but conceptually it means:
- “A life driven by purpose”
- “Life born from intention “
- “To live with resolve “
- “Purpose in living “
- “The will to live fully”
志生 isn’t a goal.
It’s a way of being.
A life shaped by intention.
A choice to live awake instead of on autopilot.
A reminder that meaning isn’t something you find — it’s something you practice.
When I first carried this name, I didn’t understand it because I hadn’t lived it yet.
I was busy proving.
Busy enduring.
Busy saying I’m fine.
Only now, standing on the other side of exhaustion and expectation, do I see that this name wasn’t describing who I was — it was waiting for who I would become.
And maybe that’s how all callings work.
They don’t shout.
They don’t rush you.
They wait patiently until you’re finally quiet enough to listen.
For me, 志生 now means this:
I choose to live with purpose not pressure.
I choose growth over fear.
I choose to say yes when it matters.
I choose life, fully, deliberately, and imperfectly.
Not because it’s easy.
But because it’s mine.
And maybe that’s what a name is meant to do — not define you at the beginning,
but meet you when you’re finally ready.