Currently listening to: That Dress Looks Nice on You - Sufjan Stevens
From an early age, we are told that a directionless life is bound for failure. What does that mean, though? What is direction? Where am I supposed to go? Is it something that inspires us or something to be actualized? Is it financially or educationally driven? Or is it driven by passion?
I'm asking myself this today because I seem to have a penchant for befriending some particularly impressive people. These are people with immaculate resumés, with passions that define them - with "direction." These people, pun intended, are going places. Something that has motivated me as of late is interfaith work. Reading about, writing about, partaking in and spearheading work that is committed to engaging people of different faith backgrounds in conversation, curriculum, and activities that provide equity of voice. Inspired, I know. And yet, I don't know if that is my direction.
I made a friend last year (for the purpose of maintaining anonymity, we will call him Bill) who is currently completing his graduate studies in divinity at the Harvard of the Midwest. Talking to Bill makes me feel under qualified in my own field of study. His work is independent of interfaith, and yet, I can't help but feel like that too is his calling and not my own. These aren't just my insecurities abstractly shrouded in a digestible blog post - these are legitimate concerns. Maybe it's his flawless credentials, or perhaps his age that make him appear more qualified. Maybe it's that "boost" provided by attending such a reputable institution. Or maybe it's true - that this isn't where I'm supposed to be going.
A similar encounter, and the inspiration for this post, took place last week. I met another "Bill" who, despite very modestly trying to keep his accomplishments clandestine, was dreadfully unsuccessful in this endeavor. Unfortunately for him, we met at a three day cultural convention where his reputation was an integral part of gossip amongst mothers (a ubiquitous and inescapable aspect of our national culture). Somehow, I was completely oblivious to all of this until I returned home. I thought he was just another Econ major with a broken compass like mine. It wasn't long before I was informed I'd been talking to the valedictorian of an Ivy League, that he too had direction.
Maybe this is supposed to be exciting. A lot of people say it's normal to be overwhelmed at this age by the possibilities ahead of me. I am most zealous about singing, but my majors in International Studies and Economics offer an educational-financial crutch lest I find that perhaps I'm not so original in a sea of people mouthing platitudes like "singing is my passion" (I hope you caught my sarcasm there).
I guess there is an obvious lesson here - my broken compass is not reason enough to quit. I can't be the first person to find myself at this crossroads, so there is no reason to be self-pitying. Be it interfaith, economics, or music, there will always be people who make us feel like utter failures, but they can never take away the love and effort we put into our work.
I simply need to flick the side of the compass and keep walking.
From an early age, we are told that a directionless life is bound for failure. What does that mean, though? What is direction? Where am I supposed to go? Is it something that inspires us or something to be actualized? Is it financially or educationally driven? Or is it driven by passion?
I'm asking myself this today because I seem to have a penchant for befriending some particularly impressive people. These are people with immaculate resumés, with passions that define them - with "direction." These people, pun intended, are going places. Something that has motivated me as of late is interfaith work. Reading about, writing about, partaking in and spearheading work that is committed to engaging people of different faith backgrounds in conversation, curriculum, and activities that provide equity of voice. Inspired, I know. And yet, I don't know if that is my direction.
I made a friend last year (for the purpose of maintaining anonymity, we will call him Bill) who is currently completing his graduate studies in divinity at the Harvard of the Midwest. Talking to Bill makes me feel under qualified in my own field of study. His work is independent of interfaith, and yet, I can't help but feel like that too is his calling and not my own. These aren't just my insecurities abstractly shrouded in a digestible blog post - these are legitimate concerns. Maybe it's his flawless credentials, or perhaps his age that make him appear more qualified. Maybe it's that "boost" provided by attending such a reputable institution. Or maybe it's true - that this isn't where I'm supposed to be going.
A similar encounter, and the inspiration for this post, took place last week. I met another "Bill" who, despite very modestly trying to keep his accomplishments clandestine, was dreadfully unsuccessful in this endeavor. Unfortunately for him, we met at a three day cultural convention where his reputation was an integral part of gossip amongst mothers (a ubiquitous and inescapable aspect of our national culture). Somehow, I was completely oblivious to all of this until I returned home. I thought he was just another Econ major with a broken compass like mine. It wasn't long before I was informed I'd been talking to the valedictorian of an Ivy League, that he too had direction.
Maybe this is supposed to be exciting. A lot of people say it's normal to be overwhelmed at this age by the possibilities ahead of me. I am most zealous about singing, but my majors in International Studies and Economics offer an educational-financial crutch lest I find that perhaps I'm not so original in a sea of people mouthing platitudes like "singing is my passion" (I hope you caught my sarcasm there).
I guess there is an obvious lesson here - my broken compass is not reason enough to quit. I can't be the first person to find myself at this crossroads, so there is no reason to be self-pitying. Be it interfaith, economics, or music, there will always be people who make us feel like utter failures, but they can never take away the love and effort we put into our work.
I simply need to flick the side of the compass and keep walking.
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