Reflection on Week 4

The all-too-familiar feeling of anxiety returned early last week as I noted the days at Nada winding down. It’s not anxiety about returning to “regular life” or facing up to a difficult relationship. Nor am I anxious about maintaining what I’ve begun here in much less conducive environments. It’s anxiety around the perennial question, “What’s next?” I’m not worried about finding something to occupy my time or even someone willing to pay me to keep busy. I don’t fear finding a job (thanks be to God) but, more critically, finding the right job. The question that permeates my world, year in and year out, is this: “To what shall I dedicate my life?”

Specifically, the anxiety reared its ugly head the evening I chose to take a quick glance at my typical job posting sites, after a two month hiatus. Prior to that hiatus I compulsively checked these sites for something that ignited me. (After all, we are meant to “set the world on afire!” with St. Ignatius’ blessing.) But few if any postings even sparked a notable interest. I chalked it up to burnout and, once my Nada plans were set, felt hopeful for renewed enthusiasm and focused direction post retreat.

Well, this desert retreat is ending and that quick glance of job postings left no impression on me and no motivation to submit a single application. I saw many fine jobs, mind you; there are plenty of jobs that I could do happily for awhile (assuming I’m offered the chance!) Yet still none that pull me, none to which I feel called to do.

Let me say that everything I’ve written is the epitome of privilege. That fact doesn’t escape me. Choosing among jobs is a dream come true for the unemployed. Taking time away from a paycheck to discern the next step is an unfathomable reality for most of the world. And it may be precisely because of my privilege that I feel such an intense responsibility to choose wisely, to think carefully about Frederick Buechner’s image of vocation: the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s deep hunger.

But my method of discerning sometimes looks a lot like beating a dead horse. I spend an extraordinary amount of time thinking, and praying, and choosing…which all conveniently delays any acting. I spend so much energy honing in on the right tree that I miss the very good forest. When awareness of that behavior hits, I recall Mary Jo Leddy’s necessary celebration of that which is “good enough” in her book, Radical Gratitude. Searching endlessly for the “right” job (read “perfect”) paralyzes my ability to share my skills and talents.

So, continuing in my tradition of following the wisdom of good writers, there are three guideposts I received from my readings here that need to accompany my job search:

I would like to do whatever it is that presses the essence from the hour. Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures

This desire must stay central throughout my search and throughout my work. It’s been one of my unnamed mantras during this contemplative experience. I’ve felt from the first day I arrived that this was precious time, not to be wasted, not to be used in an idle way. By that I don’t mean every moment demanded a productive “doing”, but rather a basic mindfulness. So, whether my chosen activity was reading, writing, walking, or sitting, it had to be done with intention and attention to feel worthwhile. Then, whatever the activity, if it brought me joy, it easily pressed every ounce of essence from that particular hour. I desire the same from my work.

I understood that Love embraces all vocations….at last I have found my vocation, my vocation is Love! Therese of Lisieux

This passage is such a critical addition to my repertoire of vocation insights. It’s a simple gift, as the Shakers would say. It lets me off the hook from finding the “perfect” job, knowing that I have the capacity to love in any situation. If loving is my primary vocation, there are a multitude of “right” paths at my door. I just need to pick one and start walking, in love. If I can do that, then the destination will be decided for me. In other…better…words:

For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business. T.S. Eliot