Before I begin, thank you to those who left comments on Part One. Paths, life choices, opportunities; all these topics are too complicated and multifaceted for one blogger to face and define alone. So thanks for letting me see your way of approaching these subjects.
Now, are we ready for part two?
The Book: Traveling with Pomegrantates- a Mother and Daughter Journey to the Sacred Places of Greece, Turkey, and France.
The Character: Ann Kidd (Taylor)
So far in this series on paths we've covered, somewhat, the topic of "choosing" a life path, and we've seen what a difficult work that can be. I'm going to be talking more in this post about the disappointment one feels when our chosen path doesn't end up choosing us. And I'll be talking about the discouragement we may feel before (and during!) a transition to another track.
The setting: Greece. Ann has just graduated from college, studying history. On this postgraduate trip she falls in love with everything Greek; the food, the people, the history, the scenery, the mythology. Suddenly, it occurs to her that this is what she wants to do. She wants to dedicate her graduate studies to Greek history, with the plan of becoming a professor of ancient Greek history.
She feels alight with purpose; everything is falling into place. She applies to her chosen school, a place within the suitable price range that specializes in Greek history. Months later, her world falls apart when she receives a rejection letter. Brokenhearted, she is left pathless and confused.
Months after receiving her rejection letter she is in Greece again with her mother, writer Sue Monk Kidd. Ann feels dismal and the less-than-triumphant return to Greece, the previous focal point of her hopes and dreams, only adds to her depression. But in her depression, she has a lucid moment:
"My mind bounces from one self-recrimination to another, settling finally on the rejection letter, the doorstep where I usually end up with my load of blame and self-loathing. Sometimes, in an attempt to sidestep reality, I binge on memories of how it was before that letter came, and on my daydreams about the life I'd envisioned - silly things like wearing jeans to teach my classes, carrying a brown leather briefcase, updating my passport, planning my next sabbatical to Athens, writing papers on Greece at an antique desk. When I think about those reveries now, though, they seem infused with romance. There is nothing in them about a fervent interest in students, grading stacks of papers, chiseling out lesson plans, or sitting through faculty meetings. I'm not enthused by these facets of the job- the nitty gritty parts- and this sudden revelation both disconcerts and embarrasses me" (81 emphasis added).
This excerpt struck a major chord with me. I enjoy reading Ann's journey so much because I think she's really hit on something here. It's something I like to call "doing over being". I think everyone can admit to wanting to "be" someone or something. When we're young we all dream of being U.S. President, a doctor, author, artist, the next Einstein or Earheart. And when we're young we, like Ann, never think about the nitty gritty work of actually being these people. It's a romance. In fact as we age (if you're me at least), once we find out about the requisites of being such people we abandon it and find something we'd rather be.
I'm beginning to realize how backwards I've always had it. The best career advice Derrick ever got was from a woman who told him to find whatever it was that made him hot under the collar and then work on that. The actual work you want to do will be worth the nitty gritty unpleasant parts. In the book, Ann's mother calls it "finding your necessary fire". Ann says:
"To me, this idea meant finding work with which I had a deep compatability, a true affinity, yet work that also held the possibility to bring me alive.
A fire was ignited in me on that first trip to Greece, but I can't say now that it was the necessary one. . .I admit to myself that if the university called me today and said, Oh, about that letter of rejection it was a big mistake, we want you after all, I doubt I would go. Graduate school has lost most of its combustion, and it's not just the dissapointment that dampened it. I'm beginning to see it differently. When I separated the romance of teaching ancient Greek history from the daily demands of the job, I realized it was never teaching I wanted; it was Greece. I did not have a deep compatibility with teaching, and chances were it would not bring me alive.
Writing. Growing up, it's all I wanted to do. Now I feel the way it pulls at me. Not like a dramatic allurement, but like I've been away from home and have returned to the quiet things I love" (188).
Ann proceeds to work hard at her writing skills, not always thrilling at the exercises, but feeling more alive each time she does them. For her, the doing of the writing is the attraction, not the romantic idea of being a writer per se.
So here I admit that my idea of grabbing at figs willy nilly might actually mean that we're grabbing at romantic ideas of things we think we want. We aren't grabbing the work of something we feel deeply about, we are reaching only for the romanticized false fruit of the "other" life. I tip my hat to Lindsay, my friend and commenter, who remarked that she must weigh figs against what she feels truly is her life's work.
Ann was able to come to the realization of her life's work through failure, rejection, self-honesty, time, travel, her relationship with her mother, an ability to tune in to herself through her dreams and other subconscious communications and finally, WORK. I hope I can be so self-aware.
Like Lindsay, I know for sure that my figs include my relationships, especially with Lissie and Derrick. I know for sure that I want to somehow improve the situation of women in the world. As for how, that will be revealed. In time. Some other shiny and tempting figs might have to be offered on a sacrificial platter or left to turn black and rot on their stem while I figure out the "how". Or maybe those figs will stay there for someone else who is figuring out not who they want to be, but what they truly want to do. Maybe one of those figs is for you.
So what do you think? Do you have any ideas about figuring out the "how" or "what" of your life's work? Have you ever experienced the being vs. doing syndrome? I'd love to hear from you.
Works Cited:
Kidd, Sue Monk, Ann Kidd Taylor. Traveling with Pomegranates. Penguin Books, NY 2009.
Now, are we ready for part two?
The Book: Traveling with Pomegrantates- a Mother and Daughter Journey to the Sacred Places of Greece, Turkey, and France.
The Character: Ann Kidd (Taylor)
So far in this series on paths we've covered, somewhat, the topic of "choosing" a life path, and we've seen what a difficult work that can be. I'm going to be talking more in this post about the disappointment one feels when our chosen path doesn't end up choosing us. And I'll be talking about the discouragement we may feel before (and during!) a transition to another track.
The setting: Greece. Ann has just graduated from college, studying history. On this postgraduate trip she falls in love with everything Greek; the food, the people, the history, the scenery, the mythology. Suddenly, it occurs to her that this is what she wants to do. She wants to dedicate her graduate studies to Greek history, with the plan of becoming a professor of ancient Greek history.
She feels alight with purpose; everything is falling into place. She applies to her chosen school, a place within the suitable price range that specializes in Greek history. Months later, her world falls apart when she receives a rejection letter. Brokenhearted, she is left pathless and confused.
Months after receiving her rejection letter she is in Greece again with her mother, writer Sue Monk Kidd. Ann feels dismal and the less-than-triumphant return to Greece, the previous focal point of her hopes and dreams, only adds to her depression. But in her depression, she has a lucid moment:
"My mind bounces from one self-recrimination to another, settling finally on the rejection letter, the doorstep where I usually end up with my load of blame and self-loathing. Sometimes, in an attempt to sidestep reality, I binge on memories of how it was before that letter came, and on my daydreams about the life I'd envisioned - silly things like wearing jeans to teach my classes, carrying a brown leather briefcase, updating my passport, planning my next sabbatical to Athens, writing papers on Greece at an antique desk. When I think about those reveries now, though, they seem infused with romance. There is nothing in them about a fervent interest in students, grading stacks of papers, chiseling out lesson plans, or sitting through faculty meetings. I'm not enthused by these facets of the job- the nitty gritty parts- and this sudden revelation both disconcerts and embarrasses me" (81 emphasis added).
This excerpt struck a major chord with me. I enjoy reading Ann's journey so much because I think she's really hit on something here. It's something I like to call "doing over being". I think everyone can admit to wanting to "be" someone or something. When we're young we all dream of being U.S. President, a doctor, author, artist, the next Einstein or Earheart. And when we're young we, like Ann, never think about the nitty gritty work of actually being these people. It's a romance. In fact as we age (if you're me at least), once we find out about the requisites of being such people we abandon it and find something we'd rather be.
I'm beginning to realize how backwards I've always had it. The best career advice Derrick ever got was from a woman who told him to find whatever it was that made him hot under the collar and then work on that. The actual work you want to do will be worth the nitty gritty unpleasant parts. In the book, Ann's mother calls it "finding your necessary fire". Ann says:
"To me, this idea meant finding work with which I had a deep compatability, a true affinity, yet work that also held the possibility to bring me alive.
A fire was ignited in me on that first trip to Greece, but I can't say now that it was the necessary one. . .I admit to myself that if the university called me today and said, Oh, about that letter of rejection it was a big mistake, we want you after all, I doubt I would go. Graduate school has lost most of its combustion, and it's not just the dissapointment that dampened it. I'm beginning to see it differently. When I separated the romance of teaching ancient Greek history from the daily demands of the job, I realized it was never teaching I wanted; it was Greece. I did not have a deep compatibility with teaching, and chances were it would not bring me alive.
Writing. Growing up, it's all I wanted to do. Now I feel the way it pulls at me. Not like a dramatic allurement, but like I've been away from home and have returned to the quiet things I love" (188).
Ann proceeds to work hard at her writing skills, not always thrilling at the exercises, but feeling more alive each time she does them. For her, the doing of the writing is the attraction, not the romantic idea of being a writer per se.
So here I admit that my idea of grabbing at figs willy nilly might actually mean that we're grabbing at romantic ideas of things we think we want. We aren't grabbing the work of something we feel deeply about, we are reaching only for the romanticized false fruit of the "other" life. I tip my hat to Lindsay, my friend and commenter, who remarked that she must weigh figs against what she feels truly is her life's work.
Ann was able to come to the realization of her life's work through failure, rejection, self-honesty, time, travel, her relationship with her mother, an ability to tune in to herself through her dreams and other subconscious communications and finally, WORK. I hope I can be so self-aware.
Like Lindsay, I know for sure that my figs include my relationships, especially with Lissie and Derrick. I know for sure that I want to somehow improve the situation of women in the world. As for how, that will be revealed. In time. Some other shiny and tempting figs might have to be offered on a sacrificial platter or left to turn black and rot on their stem while I figure out the "how". Or maybe those figs will stay there for someone else who is figuring out not who they want to be, but what they truly want to do. Maybe one of those figs is for you.
So what do you think? Do you have any ideas about figuring out the "how" or "what" of your life's work? Have you ever experienced the being vs. doing syndrome? I'd love to hear from you.
Works Cited:
Kidd, Sue Monk, Ann Kidd Taylor. Traveling with Pomegranates. Penguin Books, NY 2009.
