Weaving Your Edges
Embracing a Life of Emergent Contribution
The question hangs in the air, a relic from childhood birthday parties and well-meaning relatives: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" A question that often feels less like an invitation to dream and more like a demand for a neatly packaged identity, a single label to affix to the ever-expanding tapestry of self. Growing up, as it turns out, isn't necessarily about finding that one perfect box, but about embracing the glorious, messy overflow of our curiosities.
My own journey felt like a series of delightful detours, each path strewn with fascinating discoveries that stubbornly refused to align into a conventional career trajectory. Pigeonholing felt like clipping the wings of a nascent fascination. Yet, the question persisted, a gentle, nagging hum beneath the surface of new skills acquired and uncharted territories explored.
Then, the quiet revelation: what if the "what" wasn't a destination, but a constant?
What if the thread that wove through the seemingly random beads of my experience was the inherent desire to assist, to uplift, to connect? It wasn't confined to the prescribed roles of social worker or caregiver, but rather an impulse that found fertile ground in the unexpected landscapes of IT departments and the hallowed halls of academia.
Imagine the surprise, the slight tilt of the head, when a tech support interaction transcends mere troubleshooting and becomes an exercise in empathetic problem-solving. Or the unexpected ripple of clarity when an academic discussion is guided not just by logic, but by a genuine desire to illuminate understanding for all involved. These were the moments when the contents of my metaphorical suitcase – a jumble of technical know-how, pedagogical insights, and a deep-seated humanism – proved surprisingly potent.
This suitcase, filled with the souvenirs of past explorations, became more than just a collection; it became a dynamic toolkit. Each experience, each acquired capability, a unique instrument ready to be deployed in the present moment. There was no longer a sense of lacking, but rather a quiet confidence in the abundance within.
This approach, this willingness to draw from the diverse wellspring of personal history, feels akin to embracing emergence itself. Instead of striving for a fixed endpoint, it's about allowing the self to unfold organically, shaped by the continuous interplay of past and present. And in this unfolding, in this daily act of pulling something useful from the suitcase, there's a sense of seizing the day, not in a frantic grasp, but in a quiet, confident stride forward, knowing that whatever the path ahead demands, the resources are already within reach.
The moment of clarity wasn't a thunderclap, but a soft dawn.
It was the recognition of a pattern, a consistent undercurrent in the various roles I had inhabited. The times I felt most alive, most engaged, weren't necessarily when I was excelling at a specific task, but when I saw a way to make things better for someone else. It was the colleague struggling with a complex system, their frustration palpable, and the quiet satisfaction of demystifying it for them. It was the student's hesitant question finally blossoming into understanding, a spark ignited in their eyes. These weren't just isolated incidents; they were echoes of a fundamental drive.
It dawned on me that I had been waiting for some external validation, some societal stamp of approval that would finally define "what I was." But the truth was, the definition had been there all along, woven into the fabric of my actions. The helping, the connecting, the problem-solving with a human-centered approach – this wasn't a skill to be compartmentalized; it was the very essence of how I moved through the world.
The societal script insisted on a profession, a singular noun to encapsulate one's contribution. We are asked, almost from the moment we can articulate, to choose a lane, to specialize, to become a marketable entity within a defined sector. But what if our truest contribution lies not in a profession chosen, but in a calling embraced? A calling that transcends the shifting sands of industry and the ever-evolving demands of the market.
A profession can be called for today and rendered obsolete tomorrow by technological shifts or economic tides. It is often tied to a specific skill set, a particular industry. But a calling? A calling is a deeper resonance, an intrinsic motivation that adapts and finds new forms of expression regardless of the external landscape. It's the underlying melody that harmonizes with whatever instrument we happen to be playing at a given time.
To view our lives solely through the lens of profession is to risk commodification, to reduce our multifaceted selves to a set of skills to be bought and sold. But to embrace our calling is to recognize the inherent value of our core motivations, the unique way we contribute to the human tapestry. It's about understanding that the "suitcase" of our experiences isn't just a collection of marketable skills, but a reservoir of wisdom that informs our unique approach to that calling.
Therefore, the answer to "what do you want to be when you grow up?" shifts from a noun to a verb, from a static label to a dynamic way of being. It's not about what I am, but how I move through the world, guided by this inherent drive to help, to connect, to make a meaningful difference, wherever I find myself. And in that understanding, there's a profound sense of liberation, a breaking free from the confines of a single professional identity, and an embrace of the emergent, ever-evolving self, guided by a deeply personal and enduring calling.