A few years back, while still working at Harvard Law School, I heard this story:
After weighing her options, a soon-to-graduate student turned down lucrative offers at prestigious law firms to accept a low-paying fellowship with a non-profit organization. This did not sit well with her family, who expected her to “do something” with her Harvard Law School degree.
Flash forward a few months: The Great Recession has hit. Both of her parents have lost their well-paying jobs. Classmates who’d thought their post-graduation lives were set are now seeing their law firm offers postponed or withdrawn. She alone, among her friends and family, is untouched by the crisis.
I’ve thought about this story a lot–and what it says to those of us navigating Plan B Nation. As I see it, the take-away is this: We never really know for sure where our choices will take us. This doesn’t mean that we don’t do our best to plan. It does mean that we are well-advised to keep an open mind about what events “mean.”
The past two years of my own life are a case in point.
After my Harvard Law School job ended in the wake of the Great Recession, I embarked on an exhaustive (and exhausting) search for paying work. At the time of this writing, I’ve long lost count of the dozens (hundreds?) of jobs for which I’ve applied. You see, my resume is impressive, but it’s also quirky. I’ve published suspense novels, written speeches for a Harvard Law School dean (now a U.S Supreme Court Justice), and designed a program to bring public school teachers to rural Mississippi. At the same time, I’m not a whiz with Excel or PowerPoint. Basically, I’m a writer, and as smart and talented as I may be, I don’t easily fit into an identifiable niche.
But here’s the thing. If I’d gotten any of the jobs I’d applied for (and believe me, I did my best) I probably wouldn’t be writing this blog, or the pieces for Huffington Post and Salon that paved the way for it. And these essays that I’m writing now—they feel important. Hard as the road to this point has been (and you’ll be hearing much more about that), right at this moment the life I’m living feels deeply meaningful.
One of my meditation teachers told this classic story:
There once was a poor rice farmer, who had a very small field just large enough to feed his family.
Then one day a herd of wild horses came running through the village. They ran into the farmer’s rice field and got stuck in the mud, and since they couldn’t get away, they were his.
His neighbor came running over and said, “This is good news! Such good fortune! You are rich, this is amazing!” And the rice farmer said, “Good news, bad news, who knows?”
A few weeks later the farmer’s 12-year-old son jumped up on one of the wild horses for a ride, only to be thrown off and have his leg broken. The neighbor comes running over and says, “Oh no, this is such bad news!” And the farmer said, “Good news, bad news, who knows?”
A week later a Chinese general is marching through the farmer’s village on the way to war. On this march, the army is conscripting every healthy boy over 10 years of age. So they took every boy in the village except the farmer’s son because of his broken leg.
The neighbor comes running over and says, “Yes! This is wonderful news, how lucky are we!” And the father replies, “Good news, bad news, who knows?”
And the fact is we never do.
Failing at something you don’t really want—even if you think you do—may be a step on the path to a wonderful life you can’t even imagine today.
Good news, bad news, who knows?
Since we can’t know what the future holds, why not keep an open mind?
© 2011, amy gutman. All rights reserved.