Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the
song still in them.
Henry David Thoreau
This famous quote by Thoreau has been rattling around in my head on and off for the last year or two. Some might think that's depressing, but I find it instructive. Not only that, once I started paying
attention to it, the words became a great motivator.
When I was a teenager, I fell in love with Walt Whitman and Thoreau. I read Walden and have more copies of Leaves of Grass then I care to count (most received as gifts from past boyfriends and bearing
romantic and "deep" inscriptions). Whitman, much like myself, was a Long Island native. I choose to identify him with my birthplace rather than those that have followed (Billy Joel, Debbie Gibson, Joey
Buttafuco - OK, admittedly, I like Billy Joel.). My favorite poem was, predictably, "O me! O life!" and yes, Dead Poets Society had been released, we owned it on VHS and I probably watched it 50 times. So, sue me. Here is the poem, for those of you wanting to refresh your recollection:
O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here--that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Walt Whitman (AKA Sweaty Toothed Mad Man)
Anyway, this poem runs along the same lines as the Thoreau quote and I've been mulling over both of them for a while. I didn't know much about Thoreau's life so I read a little about him on Wikipedia (I love me some Wikipedia). It reminded me that he was a transcendentalist. At least, for a while. According to further Wikipedia "research" (I use that term lightly) the transcendentalists' core belief was the inherent goodness of both man and nature. Transcendentalists believed that society and its
institutions - particularly organized religion and political parties - ultimately corrupted the purity of the individual. They had faith that man is at his best when truly "self-reliant" and independent. It is
only from such real individuals that true community could be formed.
Much of this dovetails amazingly well with my beliefs as a Buddhist. Last month, I spent a weekend attending a meditation program and as always, it comes back to basic goodness. That's essentially what transcendentalists like Thoreau believed. Whitman, on the other hand, was a humanist, smooshed in between the transcendentalists and the more cynical, I suppose you could say, realists. Wikipedia again: humanism "focuses on human values and concerns, attaching prime importance to
human rather than divine or supernatural matters." Again, dovetails nicely with Buddhist beliefs in many ways. The experiential value of being human – of experiencing for yourself the inherent basic goodness of all life instead of buying into a supernatural force.
This is all pretty heady stuff, I suppose, but it has been responsible for a sea change in my thinking over the last year or more and is why I am making some pretty radical choices in my life, especially in
terms of career. Radical from some people's perspective, but not from my own within the context of Thoreau and Whitman and not within the context of what I am learning through my Buddhist studies and meditation practice.
I am not fulfilled in my current chosen career as an attorney for a state agency. When I went
to law school, I did so for idealistic reasons (don't laugh). Although lawyers have a reputation for corruption, many of us are in fact, devoted do-gooders and public servants. You just don't hear about us as much because we don't make any money and we rarely make headlines. After law school, I went to work for a small two person private firm representing people in employment discrimination cases but I was quickly disillusioned. Our bottom line drove most everything just so we could stay afloat. After 9 months, I quit. I decided I wanted to take a job as a government
lawyer – what I considered and still consider to be a public service position. I felt I would have more of a chance of helping people and society at large that way. Also, the trade off for making very little
money, was better hours, more job stability and good benefits. So, I became a government lawyer and 8 years later, I remain one. Of course, by now I am totally disillusioned once again. And the thought
that I may directly help people or be of benefit to society at large in this career path has completely vanished. Realism is the backlash of transcendentalism, indeed.
Now, I am faced with my next move. Do I simply leapfrog from attorney job to attorney job looking for the one that will fulfill my ideals? Will I be able to find me "dream job" that way? Has my dream changed or have I simply realized that I won't achieve it on this career path? My core beliefs about humanity and society and the interconnectedness of us all remain the same and have deepened through my Buddhist practice. I believe that there doesn't need to be a split between your beliefs, the way you lie your life and your job. Nor should there be. We spend most of our waking hours at a job – the bulk
of our lives, in fact (does that depress you? if so, maybe you should consider a career change as well!) So, it better be for more than a good health insurance plan and a pension.
This all came to a head sometime last year. We sometimes receive blast emails throughout my state agency. Sometimes they are announcements about high level changes in leadership, an event coming up, or the latest round of pay cuts and health insurance premium increases while thanking us for our continued hard work. Every once in a while we get an email about a person that has died – usually someone higher up in the agency whom most staff (we have thousands of employees spread throughout the state) would at least know by name. Last spring, we received an email about a woman that had died. She was not a high level staff person, just a low level staffer, but she had been with the agency for 30 years. The email announced the regret of her passing, talked briefly about the job title she worked in, and then stated that she had "passed away at her desk after 30 years of service." Wow. Several of us were taken aback by this blast email announcement. A couple of us reacted with incredulity followed swiftly by depression. To die as a civil servant at your desk in a cubical after
30 years. The Thoreau line almost immediately cropped up in my mind's eye: Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them. Maybe (although doubtful), it was her dream to die at her desk performing what she considered to be an important civic duty. Sounds a bit of a stretch, but maybe. And maybe she had done other far more gratifying things with her life
and was happy the way it had all turned out. Maybe. But for me, that embodied exactly what I don't want to happen. I can think of nothing more sad and depressing then dying at my desk at a government job. That moment, I decided it was time to take some real steps toward my goal of working in a field I was passionate about and that I knew would have a direct
impact on many people's lives – becoming a labor and postpartum doula and childbirth educator.
I have spent a lot of time wallowing in regret over my law school education (and an ill-fated year of master's work that proceeded it) because it left me with student loans that are simply unpayable
in my lifetime and act as a yoke around my neck. I have spent and continue to spend a lot of time talking with DH – can we do this? Can I stop being a lawyer and instead follow my passion? From a financial standpoint, it's daunting. Since we've had Tiger and have to pay for childcare, we are barely
making it every month as it is. There is another quote though, from my teacher and guru, Sakyong
Mipham Rinpoche that is applicable here: Warriorship means that when
there are obstacles, we do not back off . At some point, I just decided to change my perspective. Not only can I do this, I will. It will mean a lot of sacrifice and it is scary, but it is too important. This is my life, after all, and I only get one shot at it - this go round, anyway. It would mean ditching the stable job, the benefits, the pension plan. It would mean perhaps way less money in a college fund for Tiger. But, I talked to DH about this – what kind of role models do we want to be for our son? Do we want to show him that you stuff your dreams inside and decide they're just that, dreams, and instead work a 9-5 that is soul crushing just to make sure you have stability? Is that what life is all about?
I watched my loving parents work like dogs at "9-5" (more like 8-7) jobs their whole adult
lives until they recently were able to retire. Just struggling to get by and keep a roof over our head and food in our bellies, but hating it. Just frustrated and mad and underpaid and underappreciated when it came to their jobs. And we saw them, well, not as often as we all would have liked. They worked long hours, they had long commutes. My brother and I learned to cook dinner and do chores early on. We were "latch key" kids, like my kid and so many kids are. It didn't totally ruin us, it was fine. But, I swore I would never do that – I would never work a boring job I didn't like just to get by. And yet, at almost 35 years of age, I am doing just that. Sure, your priorities change. You get married, you have kids, you rack up way too much debt, everyone tells you you need to have a pension plan, a college plan, a stable job. And for some people, that's enough. Or they say it's enough. But, if I'm honest, it's not enough for me. I have to think about what lessons I will pass onto my son. And I
truly believe, he'll forgive me if he doesn't have a great college plan as long as he saw me doing what I wanted to do – taking a risk and following my passions. And the people that will come in and out
of his life due to this career change are wonderful, amazing people. It will change his life too. After all, I would not have gotten on this path if it weren't for my experience in giving birth to him. He
gave me this gift and I will not squander it.
What about retirement? By the time I make the switch and leave my 9-5 law job behind (which is still some years off), I'll have 10+ years into the retirement system and I'll keep saving. It won't allow me to retire at 55 or even 65 or maybe ever fully, but if I'm working at a job I really love, I won't need to retire from it in the way I would need to from the current career path I'm on in order to really start living my life. I don't want to start living until I'm 65 years old. Who knows? I may not make it that long!
So, since I'm still working, I'm sinking money into getting the training and certifications I need to in order to make this switch by the time I'm in my early 40's. I'm taking on clients when I have the chance. I'm learning how to start a business. I've got business cards and I'm distributing them and finding other ways to market myself. I'm working on two certifications at once to increase the
scope of the services I can provide. DH is admittedly scared but very supportive. We envision a different life for us and our family. He has aspirations as well. We will downsize and cut expenses. Somehow it will work. We'll cover my loans and our bills. We'll make sure to
keep our life insurance current so Tiger won't be stuck with our student loans. Tiger will enter school in a few years and when we have a second baby, that one will hopefully not be too far behind him. We'll have more time with our kids, more time together. I keep saying it like a mantra: Somehow it will work. It's all about courage and perspective and the aspiration. It's the belief in the basic goodness that drives me. I will not die at my desk. I may die by the side of a woman giving birth or at home with my family, but I won't die with my song still in me. I will spend this next part of my life singing and that will be my legacy to my children.
What is your song? Have you listened to it lately? What can you do to
pay it heed?
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