An early morning/late night conversation in a barn, over imported mead, while the horses kicked for more hay, gelled some thoughts for me.

There is a difference between a job, a career, and a calling. While there are exceptions to every rule, I don’t have a helluva lot in common with people who bounce from job to job. Invariably they’re miserable, and escapism into drugs, alcohol, larping, video games or poorly considered relationships (with resulting offspring) ensure that they always feel short on time, always busy, but never satisfied. Those who have found a career path have an easier time of it, and tend to have more disposable income, but they’re chained to desks and false hierarchies for 14 hours a day, the slaves of 401K plans and health insurance. Often, provided they show up on time and don’t make too much of a stink about office politics, they can count on their paychecks for at least a few years, until they bounce to another job where they’ll be equally trapped. Careers are more about managing people & time than they are about their component parts. I tried to have one myself, and couldn’t make myself play the game well enough to succeed.

But callings are different. These are the things that we’d do even if there weren’t a financial payoff, and if we’re smart about it, there may be a way to make even that aspect work.

I’ve looked at some of the tribe by which I’ve been blessed over the years, and have discovered a universal undercurrent to all of them. These people do such a wide variety of things. They run renaissance festivals and breed border collies. They write unconventional, cross-genre novels. They are stand up comedian singer/songwriter political activists. They are artists who photograph unlikely objects all over the world. They are multi-lingual musicians with sweet voices who can sing all the hits from the sixteenth century. They joust in front of crowds in full armor on horseback. They save entire third world villages by buying Damascus blades. They are healers from both the Eastern and Western schools of thought. They are contortionists and silk swingers and bellydancers. They are puppet makers and professional gamblers and video game designers and beta fish breeders.

And while I don’t know much about surgery or Damascus steel or animal husbandry, I can talk to all of these people forever because the underpinning for every one of them is a deep, committed passion to inventing their own reality, and changing the world to suit their desire. I can get behind that. At the core of the multi-colored whirlwind of collective human experience is the universal push to create one’s personal nirvana.

I believe that no matter how outlandish everyone tells you your dreams are, they are possible. Visualize with crystalline clarity what you want. Write it down. Look for opportunities everywhere. Evict naysayers from your life. Learn, without jealousy, from people who are leading the type of life you want. Teach freely the things you’ve learned to others. Give no voice to the negative. Expect abundance.

It works. I swear it does. I’m leading the life that I fantasized about (and was told exhaustively I could never have) when I was fifteen. I want a different life now. The house rebuilding has slowed me down, but I’m already making inroads for the next level.

Focus, focus.