Crossroads

Crossroads

There is a song lyric (which song, I cannot now remember) that says, "I'm at a crossroads in my life, and I really don't know which way to go."

Brother, am I.

I don't believe in the phrase "mid-life crisis." I do believe, however, that you are happiest when your life is in balance, like an equilateral triangle: personally, professionally, and spiritually. And when one of the sides of that triangle becomes imbalanced, you experience "crisis." Sometimes this is once during your life, sometimes multiple times. You may be 15, 20, 25, or 50 - not yet a quarter through your time on this Earth, or more than halfway. It does not happen at a specific time, nor at a specific frequency. But when it does happen, you feel it in your very bones. It permeates your existence. You feel like you are walking up a steep hill in uneven shoes.

Brother, do I.

I have been blessed to have almost 12 years working in a place where I felt balanced. In the tech sector, 12 years is forever. But as I look around my cubicle today, I am dissatisfied, disjointed. Off balance. I no longer find meaningful fulfillment in what I do. I feel as though I no longer should be here.

Problem is, I don't know where I should be either.

"Life is too short to be miserable at work." I saw that somewhere recently. The sad fact of life is, however, that while love may make the world go around it doesn't pay the mortgage - or the electric bill, or buy groceries. But does that mean I must labor joylessly? God I hope not. My father labored for 19 years at a soul-sucking job, and it nearly destroyed his marriage. I would like to not let it get so dire.

This is not to say I hate work. The Catholic Church defines meaningful labor as essential to healthy spirituality. Perhaps my problem is that I no longer find my labor "meaningful." And I spend too much time at my labor for that. If I exclude the hours I sleep, I spend more time at "work" than anywhere else (even including traffic, although it doesn't feel that way as I slog down Route 28 every day, but I digress). At 36, I'm too young to feel that way.

My day started with the latest entry in my Moritz's blog in my Inbox, a blog in which she writes, "One of the most powerful and profound phrases you can utter to yourself is 'I am.'" I am a mother, I am a wife, I am a friend, I am a writer. But for 8 hours a day, give or take, I am none of those things - and I don't know what I am.

As I flipped on my iPod to take solace in music, I went to an album I haven't listened to in a while, Mary Chapin Carpenter's, "Come On, come On." First song: "Show a little passion, baby. Show a little spark. Everything we've got, we got the hard way."

And as I look to my right, I see my plaque purchased years ago in college: Opportunity always involves some risk. You can't steal second base and keep your foot on first.

True words all of them. The trick now is to find my passion, invest the work, and take the risk. Question is, do I have the guts to do it?

Brother, I hope so.