Be Who You Were Born To Be

We've all heard or read the words, "Be who you were born to be," at one time or another. It's a kind of shared wisdom that just keeps getting passed on--sometimes skipped over, other times thought deeply about.

Be who you were born to be. On the surface, it seems like it should be the easiest of goals. What happens fairly soon after you're born, however, is that other people begin deciding who you should be. Initially, it's the do this and don't do thats which build the track on which you're permitted to operate. Almost as soon as they can speak, after being asked about age and general health, children are usually asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" It's there that it starts, the mental handcuffs uniting who you are, your personhood, with your career. The real question being asked is what do you want your job to be?

There was a period when I was very young when I would alternately answer the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" with either "A doctor." or "A go-go dancer." The latter would invariably trigger my mother's immediate, "Karla, that's inappropriate," response. And I'd argue, "But, Mom, they're so happy--and they dance in cages!" My father was less than pleased when he discovered I'd handed out my business cards at school, stating "M.D." after my name. In crayon. I was seven and just trying on the various roles. Though, late at night, I'd write down small poems and stories I'd thought of that day, trying to distract myself from the task of choosing a career.

I'm not sure how old I was when it dawned on me that "writer" could be included on the career options list. When it did, it was an epiphany. Wasn't that what I was always doing anyway? Imagining fanciful worlds during the day and writing about them at night? Somehow, close on the heels of the revelation, came a shadow. No, it seemed "writer" was not really a solid choice. It was a little too ethereal, like wanting to be a muse or a philosopher. One could give it a little more weight by stating "journalist" as the goal. But, simply reporting who, what, why, when, where, and how held little appeal. I was fortunate to have parents who encouraged me in my creative pursuits, but other influences dampened my enthusiastic rush to be a writer. It got put on hold.

Then, a new revelation occurred during my adult life. I stopped identifying people by their careers. I had no idea what the volunteer at the animal shelter did during her weekday life. The soccer coach who kept encouraging our son when he was frustrated? No idea what job brought him a salary. There's something so freeing about getting to know people based on their compassion, the ideas, their humor...and not even thinking to ask what they do for a living.

Imagine the thoughtful, creative replies one would hear if children weren't asked how they're going to make money as an adult, but what kind of person they hope to be.

Somewhere along the way, I began to identify myself as a writer again. Certainly not because I'm earning enough money writing to support myself on it. But, because it's what I do with meaning, what I feel compelled to do. And, deep down, there's an encouraging voice that being a writer is what I was born to be. That's the voice I listen to now.