It's a Living: My Thoughts About Careers

Comedian Louis C.K. remarks in his latest stand up special, Live at the Comedy Store, that people make too big a deal about what they want to "be" or what they want to "do" with their lives. He says, "people over think this life shit," and jokes that his entire goal is to "make enough money" to " just lock the door and eat the food." C.K.'s simple answer to humankind's quest for meaning in life? "Just get food and put it in here," as he gestures toward his mouth.

For most of us, life is a bit more complicated than Louis C.K. asserts, but I think he makes a very valid point. How many times in my life have I been worried about what I was doing or who I was supposed to be at the expense of true self-discovery? How many times have I defined my own self-worth through the narrow lens of my career? Most of us, from time to time, get swept up in the business of living, attempting to shape our life stories without considering the larger picture, and sometimes this can lead us down paths that we don't find fulfilling.

However, at some point, we all must figure out something so we can, if not "lock the door," at least "eat the food."

Before I go any further, let me add a little disclaimer. I've been very fortunate my entire adult life to be gainfully employed doing what I love. Even when I lost my job five years ago, I had an immediate backup plan in graduate school. When I was a grad student, I had plenty of work and could support myself easily. I am really lucky and am well aware of it. There are millions of people who either can't work, can't find work, or don't make a living wage. For millions, work is not a dignified endeavor, so I am grateful to be able to consider this question of work with some distance and from a position of relative comfort.

In the past two years I have undergone a seismic shift in my thinking about work. I used to be concerned about where I was going in my career. Each job was a gateway to the next. I figured teaching middle and high school band was a step along a road that would eventually lead to graduate school. From there I would either teach at the collegiate level or go into the professional world, starting as an assistant conductor, and eventually become the music director of a regional orchestra. It was part of a logical and consistent progression which began almost twenty years ago in high school.

However, soon after entering grad school, I realized that in order to achieve a really high level of music making as a conductor - both in academia and in the professional world - not only do you need to be a good musician, you also need to be very entrepreneurial. This includes a good deal of self-promotion with websites, social media, videos, a great resume, and management. It also means attending conferences and workshops, networking and making connections. You have to have a thick skin, absorb a good deal of abuse, and endure much failure. You have to be patient, flexible, motivated, and willing to do whatever it takes to be successful. It also helps to win a few competitions along the way and know the right people. And all of this doesn't guarantee success.

Conducting is a tough business and I eventually came to an impasse when I realized that, in spite of my love of music, teaching, and working with other musicians, I hate everything else about the business. A lot. And I'm bad at it. It turns out I've never really been interested in the business side of the music business, which makes it difficult to get foot on the ladder. I've always shied away from self-promotion. I make the worst videos (ever) and still haven't gotten around to making a website. I know, if I worked hard and really wanted to swim in the waters, I could be successful as a professional conductor, but after wading in for a couple of years, I realized that much of the profession doesn't really resonate with me.

In light of this discovery, I began to consider what I should "do" or what I should "be" and to "over think this life shit" for about two years.

Earlier this month I was sitting in a pew at Saints Peter and Paul in Naperville, Illinois on the feast of St. Joseph the Worker, which symbolically falls on "May Day" or "International Workers' Day." As I sat at listening to the homily during the 6:45 AM Mass with the sun brilliantly streaming through the East facing windows behind the altar, the priest spoke about the relationship with work as our physical "cooperation with God" in our daily lives. We are all given gifts, talents, and certain dispositions by God that guide us in finding meaningful, dignified work. Or as the Catechism of the Catholic Church states, "in work, the person exercises and fulfills in part the potential inscribed in his nature." Through self-knowledge and true discernment, each of us has the ability to find work that not only brings us joy, but can also be of help those around us. Some of us are blessed with this knowledge or stumble into our calling right away, but for others it is a journey that lasts a lifetime.

What I finally realized this year, after much soul-searching, is that I stumbled into my calling thirteen years ago when I first set foot in a high school band room as a student teacher, but I must not have been ready to accept it at the time. I've accumulated boxes of evidence to support my impact on the lives of hundreds of students over the years, but it wasn't until this Spring that I stopped to really listen to my heart. I discovered, while it is very gratifying to stand on the podium conducting Shostakovich or Beethoven, for me true joy is connecting with students through music and having a lasting, positive impact on their lives.

Teachers give a lot to their students, but students also have a considerable influence on their teachers. I am grateful to my current students and the many students who have kept in touch with me over the years (including one who recently wrote me and said, "I can tell you [teaching] is what you are supposed to do"), and I am happy to say that I'm finally getting the message. When I listen to my heart, truly have the courage to be myself, and not worry about how others might perceive my career, I can honestly say that I am ready to give myself over to teaching in a much different way now. It is a natural outgrowth of who I am as a human being and speaks deeply to my soul.

In order to become myself I must cease to be what I always thought I wanted to be, and in order to find myself I must go out of myself, and in order to live I have to die. The reason for this is that I am born in selfishness and therefore any natural efforts to make myself more real and more myself, make me me less real and less myself because they revolve around a lie. - Thomas Merton

Springfield

In a few short weeks my apartment will be packed and I will leave Springfield and the state of Illinois behind. It will mark the end of a five year chapter of my life that has seen tremendous change, personal growth, and realization. I am definitely not the person I was when I left Wisconsin in 2010, and as I look back it is staggering to think of what I've gained and lost and what I've learned about myself along the way. This post is a reflection on three fundamental aspects I've learned about myself during my short time in Springfield.

My Loneliness Became Solitude

I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude. -Henry David Thoreau

The most important thing I learned in Springfield was the ability to turn loneliness and isolation into solitude. Loneliness can be a debilitating condition whereas solitude can feed a the soul and open up new levels consciousness. This seismic shift in my perception came about only after months of struggle to find new friends and feel at home in a town that is an hour and a half from a major metropolitan area and eight hours from my family and closest friends.

I spent my first months in Springfield desperately lonely. I had a few connections through my job, but otherwise didn't know anybody in town. It fueled my depression. I drank a lot. I tried online dating and joined meetup groups to try to meet new people. I would go out, just to get out of the house, and feel depressed because I was surrounded by groups of people that were having fun. I felt like an outsider.

Eventually through much work, therapy, a support group, a month of severe depression - laying on the couch and not leaving the house except for work - I began to see my isolation as a gift. This was the ultimate spiritual retreat in which I could finally fully encounter myself on a deeper level. There I confronted both the bad and the good, struggled with my past, my insecurities, my addictions, my broken relationships, while at the same time coming to the realization that all of this has made me who I am today.

I am definitely no spiritual master and I freely acknowledge the long road ahead of me, but life feels different these days. I have much more gratitude, compassion, empathy, and love in my life than ever before. The quiet moments of patient attention to the deepest part of my being, the place where I feel a true encounter with God, brought about by solitude, have changed my life. "If our life is poured out in useless words, we will never hear anything, never become anything, and in the end, because we have said everything before we had anything to say, we shall be left speechless at the moment of our greatest decision," says Thomas Merton. Thanks to my experience in Springfield, I finally found stillness and comfort in being alone and willingly embrace my true self with all of my imperfections.

I Need Stability

For most of my life I've been on the go, never staying in one place for very long. Prior to grad school, I lived in Eau Claire, Wisconsin for thirteen years but in spite of the relative stability of place, I lived at four different addresses and worked five different jobs during that span of time, always knowing that I would move on to "bigger and better things." In retrospect my life has been a constant search for the perfect destination - perfect job, perfect home, perfect city. When I moved to Springfield, I viewed this as another stop along the way to eventual attainment of true happiness. I planned to stay for three to five years as I finished my doctorate in music and then move on to a career as a college professor.

However, when I looked into the future, I saw my pattern of life playing itself out in a similar manner on a different career track. The transitory nature of my life as a high school teacher, sailing from job to job, would simply be transposed to the collegiate level upon completion of my doctorate. I would be chasing another moving target on an entirely different level of my career. My degree was not a gateway to happiness, as I had imagined, but simply another avenue down which to continue my relentless pursuit of fulfillment. When I realized this I asked myself, what do I really want? What makes me happy? When I honestly answered these questions, I saw my life was moving in the opposite direction from my actual desire.

There is a reason why I've visited so many monasteries in the past two years. It is a beautiful way to make a retreat from daily life, and there is a profound mystical and spiritual component which is very important to me. However, when I look deep inside of myself and the experience, the element that draws me to the monastery most of all is the stability of the monastic life. There is a groundedness and balance in monasticism that appeals to my deepest yearnings, and while my ego is content with the vainglorious search for fleeting happiness, my true self desires stability of place and lasting relationships.

I Want a Real Social Network

In the age of social networking we are more connected than at any point in history, yet paradoxically we are more isolated than ever. Studies have shown the limits of the ability of social networking to create meaningful connection between people and there is still no way to replace one-on-one, face-to-face communication with another human being. In a piece written for the New Yorker in October of last year, Maria Konnikova  asserts, "with social media we can easily keep up with the lives and interests of far more than a hundred and fifty people. But without investing the face-to-face time, we lack deeper connections to them, and the time we invest in superficial relationships comes at the expense of more profound ones." This is certainly true in my own life.

Over the years I have formed a vast network of connections and acquaintances, some superficial and others with greater depth, while at the same time running in the opposite direction of true love and friendship. My marriage was an enormous casualty of this lifestyle and my relationships with family and close friends have suffered as well. My eagerness to move on with life and find the "right" friends prevents me from staying in one place too long, thus limiting my ability to create close bonds and form lasting, meaningful connections. I guard and isolate myself from others because I don't want to emotionally invest myself in something momentary and fleeting.

I've come to the conclusion that instead of running away from my family and closest friends, I want to run towards them. Therefore leaving Springfield after only a short time feels vastly different than past moves. Instead of moving on to "fame and glory" or the next step along an ever more illustrious career path, I'm moving towards uncertainty. I don't know where I'm going to live in September or what I will be doing with my life next Fall, however far from being anxious about the uncertain future of my vocation, I eagerly embrace it. My life has been a journey of ups and downs, and as I begin the next chapter, I feel deeply peaceful knowing that I will be returning home and I look forward to strengthening my relationships with the people I know and love.

We all need to do what makes us happy, but first we need to know what makes us happy. I really think happiness is woven into our DNA by our Creator and it's up to us to discern what that means for each of us individually. I now recognize happiness, for me, is a lot different than what I initially thought. This has involved a lot of listening to, understanding of, and patience with myself as I've come to realize who I am and who I am not.

So, thank you Springfield for being a safe and accepting place for me as I sorted all of this out. You came into my life at just the right time.