Calling Over Costume
You look like you’re in the mood for some wisdom. Do yourself a favor and go read these passages from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. They are 3. 4 and 5.20.
The last line of 3.4 and the first line of 5.20 changed my life. For those with the inability to follow instructions, 3.4 is a long diatribe from Marc about what a good man should be. It’s full of still-applicable wisdom. You really should read it. But for those that still won’t, the last line is:
“And he cares nothing for their praise—men who can’t even meet their own standards.”
And in 5.20, he lays out what has become a fairly well-known mantra and one I have tattooed on my arm: The obstacle is the way. Mr. Aurelius is discussing how people cannot impede your intentions when your character is aligned with good. Any obstacle you encounter is not a challenge that makes you second-guess your motivation, but is simply an activity that must be completed in order to continue the march onward. Interestingly though, he begins that passage with:
“In a sense, people are our proper occupation. Our job is to do them good and put up with them.”
Those trio of lines haunted me for more time than I wish to admit. I had read Meditations many times before, but for some reason, these lines refused to pass quietly. I struggled to understand why until I examined my professional efforts. My life back then looked like the epitome of success: a healthy family, courtroom victories galore, and a new tax bracket; but deep down, I knew I was adding to a house of cards. My motivation for being the best wasn’t for you, it was for my ego.
In my book Ruthless, I tell the story of how my life nearly ended when I almost gave into depression driven by a victim mentality. I turned my life around by applying Stoic virtue to every aspect of my existence. At over 300 pounds, the journey began with what I was putting in my face. From there, it moved to what I was feeding my mind, how I was spending my time, and who I surrounded myself with, but I never got around to checking in on how I was making a living. That was until I saw those three lines in Meditations.
By that time, I had been a trial attorney for nearly a decade and I was really good at it. Arguing is my first nature. But arguing about the law had become a role I played, literally telling others my suit was a costume because I was charging hundreds of dollars an hour to argue over the size of bricks sometimes. I know people who are living inside their calling and they would never say they feel like they wear a costume at work. They’ll admit to wearing their professional clothes or uniform, but never a costume.
If someone were to ask you what your calling is, what would you say? Probably something boring like being a good parent. That’s everyone with kids. Yes, even the crappy parents who genuinely believe they’re trying their best. What you do to maintain your family’s health and happiness is not your calling, that’s your duty. If you think you're calling is to support your community by volunteering, good. But you better have a day job.
Your calling is your profession. I’ll let some of you argue with my words for a bit, but come back when you finally submit to reason. If you can pull back a bit, you’ll be able to see how we’re still very much in the experiment phase of civilization. 5,000 years ago humans had vastly different lives because motivations were tuned to survival, not thriving prosperity. Today, being a full-time doctor and open mic comic is possible. That wasn’t a thing for your ancestors.
Answer this one honestly. Being outside sucks. True or False?
Half of you are going to say true and half of you are full of shit. Being outside in bursts is awesome, especially in places like Southern California or Michigan in summer. But if you’ve ever spent a few days or weeks in nature without running water, you’re lying if you won’t admit that first shower wasn’t the best feeling next to ice cream or baby giggles.
That’s the entire point of civilization: to be in environments we can thrive in rather than be left to the misery of uncivilized life in nature and caves. But to keep all this infrastructure and these goods available and services running, we need everyone contributing to the whole in some way.
You won’t always get to choose your job, but you always get to choose what industry you’re serving. Stoicism teaches that work should be looked at like an exercise of your character. It is not an identity and it certainly shouldn’t add to your status. It is simply how you contribute to the whole. If you’re considering what path is right for you, the question isn’t “How much can I make?” but “How big of a problem can I help solve?”
For me, I knew I wasn’t going to solve the most problems or the biggest problems through law because I wasn’t passionate about it. Read Good to Great by Jim Collins and you’ll pick up on the right recipe: First, do what you’re passionate about; second, make sure you can make money at it; and third, be the best in the world at it.
The first two are pretty easy to identify if the motivation is good and not ego driven. But it’s that third aspect of being the best in the world that got me. I knew I was never going to be the best lawyer in the world. I would argue, probably not well, that at one point I was a world-class lawyer. But it wasn’t for that long because I didn’t feel comfortable or energized in that realm. Given this realization, I nearly panicked. How was I going to reinvent myself at 41?
I did the one thing I knew would serve me best. I journaled and wrote my way into the next version of me.
That’s where The Honesty Experiment was born. I started filling my time volunteering by helping men like me; men who had transformed themselves out of some version of hell. I had asked around where I could put my story to good use and ended up finding a slew of underserved men’s programs in metro Detroit. I needed a journaling program to mimic what I had done in my life, and so I first put together a six-week program. But it wasn’t enough and so the thirteen-week Honesty Experiment was born. And then people started telling me over and over to write my book. So I did.
Thus, I built Archon Advising as a place for those men to land and stay on the side of good. My professional goal isn’t to be liked anymore; it’s to live in integrity helping others as best I can. That means telling and eliciting hard truths. It means losing every client who wants easy answers. And it means saying no to work that doesn’t honor the man I know I’m supposed to be if I’m showing up fully in service of the people who need me most.
I left full time lawyering not because I was weak, but because I wanted to be strong in ways that mattered. I wanted to be a man my son would look up to. A partner my wife could count on. A friend who told the truth even when it was uncomfortable. Now, I coach. I teach. I write. I do everything I can to be a steward and advocate for Stoicism’s power of helping men reclaim their lives through virtue and journaling.
Do you want help finding or clarifying your calling? First, forget titles and status and salaries. Forget your parents and friends and the books. Grab a good pen and answer three questions:
What am I passionate about?
Can I make money doing this?
Do I want to be the best in the world at it?
Where those three overlap, that’s your calling; your sacred assignment. Now you need courage to forget everything else and focus on that. We need you to.
If you take anything away from these words, take this: your worth is not your resume. It’s in your resilience. It’s in your relationships. It’s in the way you make others feel heard, supported and loved.
And remember to make money! It’s not evil. You cannot do your best if you don’t have resources to feed and house you. But don’t worship it. Don’t let it pull you or push you like a slave. It matters quite a bit, but not at the cost of your character.
If you want a good starting point, check out my section on profession in The Honesty Experiment. If you want foolproof help, get in touch with me.
Lastly, choose your industry wisely. Remember the wise words of Marky Marc. You should care only of praise from men who meet their own standards.
