All you can do is fail
Recently, someone asked me about the type of legal work I did right after law school. I explained that I actually wrote scripts for physics tutorial videos, because I wanted to write and publish something before I got stuck in a law firm.
As the words fell out of my mouth, I thought to myself, “What am I doing?”
I knew then I wanted to write and not have a traditional legal career, so why am I still doing legal work after all these years?
No, I didn’t want to write about physics for the rest of my life. I do mention it from time to time (type in “physics” in the search bar), but writing has lit me up since I learned how to write.
The people I admired growing up were female managing editors of magazines. I read their bios and how they assented up the ladder.
I’ve asked myself many times on this journey, “What is my passion?” Oh, many things interest me. But there are fewer than a handful of things that I would say I’m passionate about.
I’m passionate about love. A romantic at heart. Not in the send-me-flowers kind of way, but in the finding-and-flourishing-with-your-fellow-traveler kind of way.
What I’m doing, typing this at this moment, burns inside of me. When someone lets me know how something I’ve written makes them think in a different way or how it has helped them with a problem, it touches me to the core.
I have spent so much time on work and activities – just so I can do something else. I’ll take this job, so then I can write on the side.
I’m not saying to quit your job and not have enough income to take care of your basic necessities for you and your dependents (I’ve definitely made that mistake). But think about if you’re zigzagging, when you know, deep inside, what your straight line is.
All you can do is fail.
When I was in high school, someone dedicated a song to me on a popular local radio station. When I went to school the next day the question was, “Who was it, Stacy? Who dedicated ‘Love You Down’ to Stacy I at TJ?”
The song is not subtle. It’s about wanting to love someone down, and I was the only “Stacy I” at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science & Technology.
I never found out who it was. Don’t know if we were friends, or whether it was a crush from afar.
If this person had approached me, maybe it would have been a beautiful relationship. And even if I had rejected their offer – they would still not be with me. But at least they would know and could release me.
The not knowing – the what ifs – weigh us down with regret.
And the positives of making a bee line are tremendous. You obtain your desire and benefit from the wonders of being aligned with your soul’s calling.
Even if you take the direct route, and the destination isn’t what you thought, the journey doesn’t stop there. How can you ever fail when you answer your soul’s whispers?
Something electric that has never crossed your mind could be on the other side.
Your conscious mind doesn’t have to figure the end out.
From parent to publishers, I’ve been told that writing, per se, is not a sustainable career. That you can’t make a living off of it.
Well, I can think of a few people who do. I’ve also read their bios. They followed the whispers.
It’s time to answer the call – as the main meal.
