This week we are exploring changed callings, times when our vocations have fractured or when new callings arrive in unexpected ways. I invite you to listen in to Part IV of my conversation with Dr. Bonnie Miller-McLemore. She reads from her new book Follow Your Bliss and Other Lies about Calling. And I think you will find a lot to think about in our conversation.
Catch earlier parts of our conversation:
Part I – Follow Your Bliss, Part II – Blocked Callings, Part III – Conflicted Callings.
Connecting Stories of Callings
As Bonnie and I talk, we briefly reference several authors and books. I want to give you those references in case you want to follow any of these trails to learn more.
Bonnie mentions Erik Erikson and references his theory psychosocial development and one concept in particular. The idea of generativity is part of Erikson’s seventh stage. Erikson proposes that this stage is a time when adults in their middle years (40-65) face a tension between generativity and stagnation. In other words will we marshal our energy for leaving legacies of the good and care in the world, or settle into a state of disillusionment and disconnection. This theory first appeared in Erikson’s 1950 book, Childhood and Society.
When I mention, Don Browning, I’m referring to his book, Generative Man: Psychoanalytic Perspectives, which addresses Erikson and three other psychoanalytic figures to ask about what makes a good person in relationship to self, others, social world and time. Don Browning was Bonnie’s doctoral dissertation advisor at the University of Chicago Divinity School.
Fiction and Life
Later in the conversation, Bonnie references authors and books that make an appearance in Follow Your Bliss. She writes about the personal essays gathered in Ann Patchett’s failed marriage in her book, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage. And Bonnie also draws on characters, such as Olive Kitteridge in Pulitzer Prize winner, Elizabeth Strout’s book by the same name. In her book, Bonnie also draws on memoirs of Stephen King and Mary Karr, among others, to illustrate the ways that our fractured callings are complicated and need truth-telling, reframing and forgiveness.
“We fracture our callings in egregious and painful ways, sometimes from the very beginning of a commitment. The pain is real because we know, even if it’s hard to admit, that we’ve damaged callings to which we’re profoundly obligated, and we’ve hurt people most directly connected to these callings, the very people about whom we care deeply, including ourselves.” (Follow Your Bliss, p. 102).
I’ve been experimenting with “Micro Prose.” It is a form of writing with limited time and words. I learned about micro prose in a workshop with Darien Gee. What follows is a piece that I wrote in response to the question: When have I experienced a changed calling?
Changed Callings: A Reflection
I think I like change.
But this is because I plan to live a very long time.
I like the way my living is going.
I fuss. Complain sometimes. Rage a little. Or a lot.
But I love my life. I adore my callings in all their mess.
Honestly, I want change within a certain container.
I want change that I direct. Change I can manage, control.
Sing upon joy; Sing upon grief.
Sing upon the light of a new budding leaf (Lyndsey Scott)
Shattered callings. Yes, I know them.
Big, uncontrolled, unmanageable changes.
I remember a day I tried to outrun a changing vocation.
I am raging a little. So, I decide to run and release some feelings.
I go east along the gulf coast beach, running hard for two miles. Toward the pier.
And I hear a thunderstorm coming ashore behind me. Rain, thunder, lightning.
Reaching the pier, I stop. Hands on knees, panting in fear and exhaustion.
I turn to see how close the squall is.
But there is no storm.
Only a beautiful sunset.
No danger. No devastating end.
Just the ordinary conclusion that comes to each and every day turning into night.
I thought my calling was shattered. I ran from lightning and thunder.
Yet the sounds were feet pounding sand. And waves crashing beside me.
The reality was light from a sinking sun, water-colored sky, and a fractal of birds.
An ordinary ending.
I’m not saying my callings have not been shattered. They have.
Losses, fractures, and unexpected plot twists.
I do love change, and I also run from it sometimes.
What I really need is to stop, breathe, and look back.
To release my fear and exhaustion.
To see the beautiful scattering light of an ordinary change.
