Wisdom from the box

We have a big box of .... stuff ... in one of our lower kitchen cabinets. It's really a glorified "junk drawer," and is filled with an odd assortment of old mail, documents, manuals, drawings, the occasional sticker and bandaid, medical records, greeting cards. It's a potpourri really. It's a big joke in our house when one of us is looking for something, and says, "Have you seen the (whatever it is)", and the other one of us will reply. "I don't know. Check the box."

Good times.

Today, Mike was apparently struck with a sudden burst of inspiration, and decided to clean out the box. This is what was left when he was done (and had cut its contents by at least 2/3):

There's some Spiderman wrapping paper in there, and the long lost directions to one of Paxton's games, and the rope that we bought (probably two years ago) to put up as a clothes line. He made a huge stack of stuff to recycle, another to file in a more appropriate place, and a third for me to look through. I still haven't gotten to my own pile yet, but I did rescue something cool from the stack for the recycle bin... It was something I'd liked and printed from the internet awhile ago, and it just spoke so brilliantly to what I was saying in my post about following your passion. I don't know who wrote it, so I can't credit it, but it is sage advice indeed:

"Vocations which we wanted to pursue, but didn't, bleed, like colors, on the whole of our existence". Honore De Balzac said that, and he was right.  Do not let one more day go by without honoring the vocation your soul calls you to pursue.  And don't pretend you don't know what it is.  Of course you do.  You can feel it in your stomach whenever you think about it;  whenever you see another person doing it.  

Life is so very short. Do now what you yearn to do in your life. You do not have to "quit your day job" in order to do this. You may do so if you choose to, but you do not have to. Many people advance a vocation while holding down their "regular job".  You can, too. Then ease into your vocation and turn it into your "regular job".  

But you must give energy to your vocation starting today.  I mean, today.

What Are You Passionate About?

Last week, a friend and I were having some drinks at a Mexican restaurant. We were seated outside - just a few feet from the host - and were chatting, like we usually do, about kids and education, learning and unschooling. Shortly before we left, the host (a kid I'm guessing in his early twenties) turned to us and asked,

"Are you two teachers?" Then he laughed a little and said, "Not that I was eavesdropping."

We told him what we were: moms who are just really passionate about our kids, and about alternative forms of education. We introduced him to unschooling when he showed an interest, and told him a little bit about ourselves and our kids. When I mentioned that I wrote, this already animated guy's face completely lit up.

"I'm a writer!" He told us how much he loved writing, and how he's written plays and poems, books and short stories. He was beaming.

As the conversation progressed, it gradually wove itself back around to the subject of school. When it did, this kid's whole demeanor changed with it. His shoulders slumped, his tone softened, and he visibly just... deflated... when he said, "I go back to school next week. Twelve. Hours. A. Day. All science."

I was actually rendered a little speechless by the fact that he was going to school for something in a science related field, when he clearly had such a passion for the arts. Thankfully, my friend still had control of her voice, because she asked all the questions that were on my tongue. He was a biology major. He was studying to become a nurse.

He said he loved it. Only....

his FACE didn't say he loved it. His face had said he loved writing. And when she asked him about it again, he dismissed it out-of-hand.

"Oh, writing's just my hobby."

I live in the real world - most of the time - and I know that marrying dreams with necessity can be a complicated thing. I know that people have all kinds of reasons for choosing the fields that they choose, and I know that a five minute conversation with a stranger does not make me an expert on his vocational desires. Maybe he is just as passionate about nursing as he is about writing. Maybe I read him wrong.

I hope I was wrong.

And I hope that my own kids do the thing that they're passionate about, the thing that makes their eyes light up, the thing that they know, deep down, that they were created to do.

College is great if it's used to further an interest or lay a foundation for an inspired career.  But is it necessary for greatness?  Necessary for success?

No!

And I'll put myself out there and say that in a huge percentage of cases, it turns into nothing more than a hugely expensive waste of time and money, especially if you don't yet know what you want to be "when you grow up." Will college tell you?  What on earth is to be gained from a college experience that you couldn't get ten times over by traveling, by taking advantage of your public (and free!) library, by researching how to start your own business, by exploring what it is you're truly passionate about?

I don't care if my kids make tons of money.  I don't care if they go to college, or earn lots of titles after their names, or work in a corner office with a view.  What I care about is their happiness.  What I care about is whether or not they are following their own passions.

If you're following someone else's path, someone else's idea of achievement, how successful can you ever really be?  Giving up your own sense of self for the high paying job or the white picket fence is not success.

When I talk to my kids about their future, and about jobs, I am ever thankful for the people in their lives who are clearly doing what they love to do...people from all walks who are doing all different kinds of things; people who are living, breathing, inspiring examples of following your passion:

The friend who took a huge pay cut to follow his dream of becoming a cop, who didn't give up during the years that he struggled with only being able to find part-time work, and who is now a full-time bona fide police officer.

The cousin who loves music so much that he found a way to make it a career, and works as a sound technician for a big theater downtown.

The uncle who works out of his house as a computer programmer, often in his pajamas, and who loves what he's doing so much that there is almost no distinction between his computer work and his computer play.

The friend who became a video game designer, who worked his way up from company to company, and who was a lead designer on some hugely well-known and well-liked games.

And the list goes on.

When people ask about why I homeschool, this answer is always there, always on the forefront.  I want my kids to be able to follow their passions.  Not that it's not possible when you're in school...But how much easier it is when you're given freedom, when you're not tempted to let yourself be herded into the masses, be talked into following someone else's plan, be persuaded to take someone else's path.   Maybe the person who loves math isn't meant to be an accountant, but a forest ranger.  Maybe the person who loves to write isn't meant to be a journalist, but something else entirely.  Maybe when we're young and impressionable, it's all too confusing, and maybe well-meaning adults and schools just muddy the issue.   Maybe we need to get the heck out of the way, and let the kids be.

I've spent way too much time wondering where I'd be today if I hadn't gone to school, if I hadn't spent twelve years being told to put my pen and notebook away and pay attention.  To stop writing, and doodling, and dreaming, and do what I was supposed to be doing.  I can't do anything to change my own past, but what I can do is to live my life in such a way that my kids can learn from it.

I can trust my own passions, and follow them.  I can live authentically and joyfully, and in the manner that I was individually created.  I can show them that life's not about having a certain amount of money, or a certain kind of job, or a certain kind of house.  It's about being who you are.

It's about finding what you love to do, what you were meant to do...

and doing it.

Because I Must

There's a scene that I keep thinking of in the movie Blast From the Past. Blast From the Blast was a very mediocre popcorn movie from 1999, which I watched when I was going through a phase of having to watch every movie Brendan Fraser ever made. It was cute but ridiculous, and it wasn't exactly a cinematic masterpiece. He IS a good actor, but you have to watch Gods and Monsters, School Ties, or With Honors to see it. But I digress.

In the movie, Brendan Fraser is born, and grows up in, a nuclear fall-out shelter, cut off from the rest of civilization until he's 35. There's a scene where his father is trying to explain baseball to him, and his character doesn't understand why the person up to bat runs to first base after he hits the ball. He keeps asking why, and his father keeps saying, “Because he must!” Later in the movie, after he's joined the rest of the world and is able to see a live baseball game for the first time, it clicks. He finally gets it, and he excited yells out, “Oh! Because he Must!”

That is how I feel about writing. I write because I must. It's not even something that I chose for myself. It chose me. For better or worse, there has always been something intrinsic in me that needs to create things out of words.

This is November, which means that I've been working on a novel for NaNoWriMo for the past three weeks. Which also means that the past 20 days have been exhausting. Fall on the floor, body aching, weary-boned exhausting. I have four kids to take care of, a Mike, a house, and 12 pets. I don't have extra time time to write a novel in 30 days, so I have to make the extra time. And I do it simply because I must. I don't always want to, but I have to.

One of the greatest things about homeschooling, and unschooling in particular, is that my kids have the opportunity to follow their passions right now. They don't have to squeeze them in in between school and homework and activities. By design, their lives allow them to do whatever it is that they're passionate about, whatever it is that they must do, almost anytime that inspiration strikes. I remember sitting in school as a kid, hiding behind my book, jotting down an idea for a short story, or a few lines of a poem, or at one point even song lyrics. I remember the frustration of having to sneak it, and the desperation of the time constraint, of trying to get it down I paper before 1) I got reprimanded, or 2) I had to go to my next class. I remember carrying ideas around for days, never getting the chance to translate them onto a page. I am so thankful that I have the opportunity to create something different for my kids, to be able to allow them the freedom to not only find what it is that they're passionate about, but to follow it. Right now.

An interesting thing that I've begun to notice is that the more I support them in their endeavors, the more they support me in mine. A few days ago, when I was discouraged, plagued with writer's block, and frustrated by my out-of-control house it was Spencer who said, “Don't quit. Finish your book....” Not because he particularly cares one way or the other whether or not I finish it, but because he knows it's important to ME. He knows I need to do it. As a mom, it's always a delicate balancing act to make time for your own pursuits while still putting the kids' needs first. And they do still come first, no question about it. Which is why a one month writing spree is perfect for our family... For just thirty days I stay up too late, drink too much coffee, and enter the hazycrazywonderful fog that comes with being immersed in my own little made up world, populated by my own little made up characters.

And then November ends. I've fulfilled that need, we all celebrate, and then we move on to December. If November is about writing, which is in effect about me, December is the exact opposite. December is not about me. December is about the kids. December is about giving. December is about hanging the advent calendar with the 25 different activities leading up to Christmas. December is about creating wonderful memories as a family, and December is about celebrating the birth of Christ.

Every bit as vital as the part of me that was meant to write a novel this month, is the part of me that was meant to create a magical holiday experience next month. I look forward to December so much.

So in ten days, I will (God-willing) have the 50,000 words I need to happily put my novel to rest, set it aside until after the new year, and focus 100% of my undivided attention on the kids, on Christmas, and on celebrating.

Because I must.