The truth was I wanted to be like a lot of different
writers, but what I really wanted was what they had. Fame,
talent, money. But those are lousy things to wish for when
someone asks you what kind of writer you want to be, so I
had to think of something more thoughtful to say. Even if
you want those things, you certainly can’t say so out loud.
We all have too many choices in this world. Freedom is
a great thing, but freedom without restriction can be
paralyzing. When it comes to vocation, we need some
boundaries as well, parameters that allow us to focus. The
good news is that the path to your life’s work is already laid
out for you. It has been there since the beginning of your
life, and it’s quite different from that of your friends or those
famous people you admire.
When we talk about finding a calling, we’re not just
seeking an activity. We’re looking for an identity, an
understanding of who we are. We want to be complete, to
make sense of the story of our lives. But whether we
recognize it or not, this quest we’ve been talking about is
not just a physical one; it’s a spiritual one. It is, in a way, a
journey of becoming.
“Now I become myself,” May Sarton wrote. “It’s taken /
Time, many years and places; / I have been dissolved and
shaken, / Worn other people’s faces.”^4 We all do this on
occasion. We spend too much time pretending to be
someone else. We try to recreate a life we admire instead of
the one we were born for. We vainly expend energy and
effort on pursuits that are bound for failure—all because