Is Ignoring Your Life Calling the Ultimate Self-Betrayal?
In the ruthless game of life, what if the biggest lie you tell is to yourself? What if the ultimate betrayal isn’t against others, but against your own soul?
Gregg Levoy’s “Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life” dares us to confront this haunting question: Are you silencing the voices that beg for your attention, trading your deepest desires for the hollow comfort of financial security?
Callings aren’t just fleeting whims—they’re a fierce chorus demanding your truth, each voice pushing you to live authentically or risk the excruciating regret of a life half-lived. So will you listen, or will you let your potential wither in the shadow of conformity?
The concept of multiple callings throughout one’s life speaks to the dynamic nature of our existence, a theme echoed in both Taoist philosophy and the Bhagavad Gita.
In the Tao Te Ching, Laozi speaks of “ziran,” the natural way of being, which flows effortlessly like water. Our callings, too, arise from this deep wellspring of our essence, urging us to act in accordance with our true nature.
Yet, just as water can be obstructed by rocks and debris, our callings are often hindered by the very structures meant to sustain us—career, society, and the constant hum of financial necessity.
Arjuna, in the ancient Hindu scripture known as the Bhagavad Gita, is caught at his own crossroads on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, torn between his duty as a warrior and his abhorrence for the destruction it will cause.
Like Arjuna, we too may find ourselves paralyzed in the face of a calling that defies the expectations imposed upon us. We are asked to weigh the ephemeral whispers of our soul against the undeniable demands of our material world.
Levoy, like Krishna guiding Arjuna, invites us to discern between the fleeting impulses of our ego and the deeper, more insistent voice of our true calling.
To heed a calling is to listen to that inner voice that speaks in riddles and symbols, dreams and synchronicities, nudging us toward a life that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. It requires courage to step away from the path well-trodden, to risk financial instability and social disapproval in pursuit of something that only we can see.
Yet, as Levoy suggests, the cost of ignoring that voice is often greater than the price we pay to follow it. “Money costs too much,” he says, acknowledging that the security we cling to can become a prison, trapping us in a life devoid of meaning and aliveness.
I, too, stand at a similar crossroads, feeling the pull of a long-term passion for the Chinese healing arts. It is a calling that has whispered to me for years, woven through my life like a golden thread, shimmering just out of reach.
My supposed rational mind, forever the guardian of stability, argues against it: “What of the financial implications? How will this pursuit fit into the mosaic of your current life?”
Yet, the voice of the heart is insistent, growing louder with each passing day, calling me to step onto a path that feels both foreign and familiar, to immerse myself in the study and practice of healing arts that resonate with the Taoist principles I hold dear.
In Taoism, there is the concept of wu wei, often translated as “non-action” or “effortless action.” It is the art of moving with the flow of life, of allowing oneself to be guided by the current rather than swimming against it.
To follow one’s calling is to practice wu wei on a grand scale, to surrender to the river of our own destiny and trust that it will carry us where we are meant to go.
But this surrender is not passive; it requires discernment and, at times, a bold leap of faith. It means embracing the uncertainty of the journey, knowing that the river may lead us through turbulent rapids before depositing us into the tranquil waters of fulfillment.
The Bhagavad Gita teaches that we must perform our duties without attachment to the fruits of our actions, a lesson that speaks directly to the challenge of pursuing a calling in a capitalistic society. It asks us to focus not on the outcome—financial gain, social status, or external validation—but on the sincerity and dedication with which we engage in the pursuit itself.
This detachment, however, is not easy in a world that measures success by tangible achievements and monetary rewards. Yet, to truly follow our calling, we must be willing to redefine success in our own terms, to see it as the alignment of our outer actions with our inner truth, irrespective of the world’s response.
Levoy’s book is a guide for navigating this treacherous terrain, offering practical advice and poetic inspiration for those brave enough to heed the call.
He encourages us to pay attention to the subtle signs that may point us toward our path, to recognize the synchronicities and dreams that nudge us forward. He reminds us that the process of discernment is not about finding absolute certainty but about learning to trust our own inner guidance, even when it leads us into uncharted territory.
In my own life, I find myself caught between the pull of this new calling and the gravity of my current commitments. There is fear, of course—fear of failure, of financial instability, of losing my way. But there is also a growing realization that to ignore this call would be to deny a vital part of myself, to live a life only half-lived.
The Bhagavad Gita speaks of the dharma, our sacred duty, which we must fulfill regardless of the challenges we face. My dharma, it seems, is calling me to explore the healing arts, to delve into the ancient wisdom of Chinese medicine, and to integrate it with the Taoist philosophy that has long been a guiding star in my life.
The path ahead is uncertain, as all callings are. But if I have learned anything from Levoy’s book, it is that we must trust the call, even when we cannot see where it will lead.
We must have the courage to follow the river of our own destiny, to embrace the paradox of pursuing our calling in a world that often values conformity over authenticity. For in the end, it is not the destination that matters, but the journey itself—the journey of becoming who we are meant to be, of living a life that is true to our deepest self.
As I stand at this crossroads, I am reminded of a verse from the Tao Te Ching: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” And so, with trembling hands and a resolute heart, I take that step, trusting that the path will unfold before me, one step at a time.
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Diamond Michael Scott aka The Chocolate Taoist
I have an odd, but enjoyable and perhaps helpful suggestion. Find the old TV show NORTHERN EXPOSURE and watch the episodes that feature the character of Ed Chigliack prominantly. Ed is a young native man with a passion for movies and a possible calling to be a native healer. His quandry and path in life may have some lessons you can use.
I personally ascribe to the Buddhist idea that there is no purpose or meaning. There is nothing I am supposed to do. Thus, no callings. It's a modest difference I think. In either case it is quite a departure from a culture that insists you must find your purpose, meaning, or passion to be happy. I think such ideas sound depressing to a lot of people. But once you get past that, it's actually quite freeing to let go of all that baggage. I can imagine myself happy doing many different things, rather than suffering thinking I just haven't found that one thing I need to be happy. I often explain it to people this way: "You find your keys when you stop looking."
Good luck with your pursuits!