Sonya Sotaymayor blues

At times, the sense of what a mess I have made of things becomes overwhelming. One of those times was this morning reading (well, listening to on my kindle) to a essay describing the life of a famous public figure. The piece described the person's humble origins, her early success at school, further development at college and professional school and steady rise through a series of professional assignments that led to her current position of power and honor. I am not even sure where to begin to explain the feelings that brought up. It is seeing a life that has proceeded along a steady line, achieving success at each stage and, more importantly with each stage building upon the other. And the result is, the sense of accomplishment of a life's mission. My life has gone in the exact opposite direction. I never achieved much success in my chosen profession and now, cut off from that, there is going to be no long, glorious march.

Another result of this long, steady march to success in a profession is that one develops an interlocking series of acquaintances who can speak your praises, or at least provide recommendations. For a while in my career I was tapped into things. I knew most of the people in the ancient philosophy community and could count on recommendations for a few fellowships and grants. I doubt I could even get anyone to write me a letter of recommendation for a janitor's position right now.

It's a sense of having stepped off the path and being alone and lost. And paralyzed, not knowing what the next move should be. This is not the time to wallow in self-pity, though, and I don't want to sign out tonight on a total negative note. Every one's path is different and not all missions look the same. Emerson somewhere says something about the voyage of a great ship being a series of zig zags and not a straight line. His own life certainly got off the rails with the death of his first wife, throwing everything overboard and heading over for Europe with no idea what would be next for him. Granted, he was a much younger man when all that happened than I am right now, and this is not an insubstantial difference. Nietzsche gives up his university career and spends the rest of his life wandering around Europe. Interesting that these two examples came to mind. They certainly share a similarity: giving everything up, and then what? Well, if I wanted certainty and solidity, I should have stayed where I was. (The Nietzschean idea of amor fati or loving your fate certainly seems relevant here.)