In the introduction to the book, Live Your Calling, the authors describe a Federal Express commercial that parodies the movie "Cast Away," starring Tom Hanks who played a FedEx worker whose company plane went down, stranding him on a remote island for years.
Looking like the bedraggled Hanks from the movie, the FedEx employee in the commercial walks up to the door of a home, holding a package. When the woman comes to the door, he explains that he survived five years on an island, protecting this package in order to deliver it to her. Curious, he asks her to reveal what is in it. Opening the package and displaying the contents, the woman replies that there was nothing of great importance; just a GPS navigational device, a compass, a satellite telephone, a water purifier, and assorted seeds.1
"There is nowhere to go", writes Oriah Mountain Dreamer, "what you are looking for is right here. Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand."2
When we think of our lives in terms of "calling" or "purpose," "destiny" or "mission," we can get very serious, very fast and enter into a crisis of courage, a feeling of overwhelm and dread that the decision may never be made correctly or that our lives will waste away.
There is a gnawing in most of us, a small voice or urging, that communicates a dissatisfaction with a part of our lives, even the whole of our lives . . . a wonder, perhaps, a "what if" that latches onto to visions of a better lived life. We, as a culture, look to the famous or the rich or the "successful" and set our sights to those kind of lives, leaving us wanting in our own.
For those who are not ensnared by the temptations of the commercial "good life," there may be the simple distractions of too many choices, with the overwhelming amount of information available to us every moment, we may wonder how we can possibly choose the way to live that best suits us.
And then, of course, there is the self-doubt route, the you-aren't-good-enough tyranny, which, again, is broadcast on a daily basis from the world of marketing and the pull of consumerism. Get this thing, go that way for the life, or body, or relationship that is better than yours.
Joseph Campbell, renowned 20th century scholar of mythology (and so the primal imagery within ourselves and culture), addressed this yearning simply: "The privilege of a lifetime," he said, "is being who you are."3 And, to do this, he might offer, is to "follow your own bliss."
You see, if you follow your bliss, you will always have your bliss. If you follow "success" and don't get it, then you are left wanting. If you follow money and suddenly lose it, you are without your focus. If you follow your bliss, you will find new adventures each day, because you will be deepening your relationship with what you love to do.
In an interview on Public television, Campbell explained that this may mean getting rid of the life that is planned to enter the life that is waiting for you. There is "the silent unsung plea within each of us," he commented, "to give up one's conditioned view of the world and follow the visionary adventure of the creative hero."
He is framing the work in mythic, archetypal terms, but what he is pointing to is the need to forego expectations of others and of the conditioned voice within you to find the authentic song within that knows the beauty of life as you can manifest it.
It is important to understand that no one else can go on your particular journey. You are the hero embarking on a path that has not been tread exactly as you might venture. No one who came before or who will come after will live your life. It is yours to discover for yourself. It is yours to give to our collective consciousness. What beauty can you discover for all of us?
"Two roads diverged in a wood and I . . . I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." (Robert Frost)
Now it has to be authentic, not kitchy or followed just because you are supposed to be different. (A colleague once suggested a sermon: "bumper-to-bumper on the road less traveled.") It must be truly your choice, your song and then it will have a newness about it without even trying.
Wayne Muller, therapist and minister, wrote his book How, Then, Shall We Live? to address the challenge of discerning what it means to us to live our own blessed lives.
Muller framed this discernment with four principle questions.
Who am I?
We can get good and bogged down by this first question.
We can put ourselves right up to a mirror and spend years—a lifetime—reflecting
on the surface things.
In each of our roles we are someone—we move in a certain way,
we take on a certain air—we communicate a certain relationship.
Putting all these presentations aside—who, then are we?
In order to get to the sense of call, or the essence of our life flow, we need to open ourselves up, not to any sort of definition but to the being within all definition, what is called in Judeo Christian circles the "I Am."
It's not a place to ignore the daily tasks, but it is a peace of mind, an understanding of potential, of Being beyond the labels. It is an opening beyond judgment and expectation that leads you nowhere but into the worth of your life. It is shared by all—no more or less in anyone. Those that embrace this life energy within, those who recognize it, are those who have an avenue to their bliss, to their unique signature of being, which means nothing more than a way to be, the way to live most fully. It is not static, but flows as we move into experiences.
It is very easy to dip into self-absorption in the "who am I?" realm. This is something to avoid. Just knowing you are and can breathe in this life is enough to get us going.
I would not recommend starting with the question "who am I?" except in the most generic and profound terms: I am that which has divinity within—that which has life energy within.
A good inroad to knowing ourselves well is to examine what we love, Muller's second question: What do I love? This is the daily exercise, the thing to develop, nurture and claim. Trust the love not the outcome.
How shall I live knowing I will die? If we realize that all beings must end in death, then two things become readily known. Our time is precious—and we are all the same, ultimately. People with great fame and legacy die. People who have done great things that no one knows about die. People who live simple lives, die. One hundred years from now, most of the triumphs we are striving for will be lost in the shuffle of life. What matters is the life we have now.
Forrester Church, minister of All souls Unitarian of NYC, which I interned in in the late 80's, is dying of terminal cancer. He has given a great gift of living aloud in his dying. Here are a few paragraphs of a sermon he delivered to his congregation in February of 2008:
I've said I didn't become a minister until I performed my first funeral. When dying comes calling at the door, like a bracing wind it clears our being of pettiness. It connects us to others. More alert to life's fragility, we reawaken to life's preciousness. To be fully human is to care, and attending to death prompts the most eloquent form of caring imaginable.
For us to be here in the first place, for us to earn the privilege of dying, more than a billion billion accidents took place. Even the one in a million sperm's connection with the equally unique egg is nothing compared to everything else that happened from the beginning of time until now to make it possible for us to be here.
What a luxury we enjoy, wondering what will happen after we die, even what will happen before we die. Having spent billions of years in gestation, present in all that preceded us—fully admitting the pain and difficulty involved in actually being alive, able to feel and suffer, grieve and die—we can only respond in one way: with awe and gratitude.
And finally, Muller suggests we ask ourselves: What is my gift to the family of the earth?
We can create a legacy, but only if we are authentic. And that's not really the point. Adding to the wisdom of the world helps the world, of course, but living in the spirit of life generates awe and gratitude.
What the earth will be like several generations from now is up to the next generations. What the earth and our lives are to us now is up to us, now. And the effort of the living is what will fill your life with vitality, one that gives a sense of the eternal, in the presence of the joy of being.
"The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are." (Campbell)
Who am I?
What do I love?
How shall I live knowing I will die?
And, what is my gift to the family of the earth?
Langston Hughes, 20th century writer and poet, worked as a busboy in a hotel in Washington D.C.. American poet, Vachel Lindsay once stayed at this hotel on a reading tour. Hughes approached Lindsay at breakfast and put some of his own poems next to the poet's plate and walked away without saying a word. The next day there was an article in the newspaper that Lindsay had discovered a new voice in poetry. When Hughes arrived at his job, there was a crowd of reporters and photographers waiting to catch a glimpse of this new talent.4
This is a simple demonstration of Muller's formula. Langston Hughes knew that he was more than a busboy. He shared with another what he loves, took the chance because life is short and was willing to give the gift of his talent to the family of the earth.
Sometimes illustrations of other persons lives can confine our own wondering. So we can also refer back to parody of Cast Away. Let's look at that package that the FedEx man in the commercial delivered. At the risk of pushing a metaphor too far, I'd like to examine the contents of a package that FedEx suggested would get someone where they want to go, out of isolation into a thriving life. A GPS navigational device, a compass, a satellite telephone, a water purifier, and assorted seeds. The GPS navigational device is one's intuition, one's inner knowing of the destination, the thriving life. The compass is what gives one bearing in one's life, keeping in mind the physics of one's life, the circumstances to navigate. The satellite telephone, well . . . whatever gives you guidance, the larger purview of your adventure, the life-line of faith in one's life, what can be called upon to help with perspective. The water purifier? A healthy discernment—one that can wade through our own messages of self pity, regret, ambition, competitiveness, fantasy, suspicion, and cynicism to distill the hope and courage that nurtures faith in our lives. And finally the seeds—seeds of potential of course—seeds that are ever available and ready to be planted.
Let your life sing its song . . . even if it's only a note a day. Give it to yourselves for the wisdom of your lives. Give it to the world for the beauty of our days. So may it be. Amen.
Copyright © 2008 Lisa Ward. All Rights Reserved.