Tag: The Anatomy of a Calling

  • 10 Signs You’re on the Right Track to Finding Your Calling

    10 Signs You’re on the Right Track to Finding Your Calling

    Finding and fulfilling your calling can be confusing, disheartening, anxiety-provoking, disappointing, and frustrating, but it can also lead to the greatest feelings of deep fulfillment you’ve ever experienced. When you know—youjust know—that you’re here to be an instrument of sacred service for the Divine to use you as a vessel of love amidst a world in crisis, you’ll find yourself on just such a hero’s journey—because your calling will reach out for you like a magnet draws forth metal. This kind of journey is not for the faint of heart, which is why I wrote my new book The Anatomy of a Calling. Consider it a sort of field manual for anyone on the hero’s or heroine’s journey of embodying your soul’s purpose. (The book trailer just dropped today! You can watch it here.) I wrote this book for anyone who just knows that you’re here on a sort of spiritual mission, one that your soul has been preparing for your whole life, which may be quite mysterious, filled with unexpected twists and turns.

    You may have already heard the Call to Adventure, and you’re now on the Road of Trials, where things don’t always go quite as you planned. Or maybe you’ve heard the Call, but you’re Refusing the Call. Or maybe you’re in the Ordeal in the Innermost Cave, experiencing a Dark Night of the Soul, which always happens just before you Find the Holy Grail that you bring back to the Ordinary World on the Road Back. Maybe you’ve already completed one hero’s journey and now you just got called to another, because most of us are in the midst of multiple hero’s journeys all at once! Wherever you are,The Anatomy of a Calling is meant to offer you comfort, reassurance, tools, and practices that can facilitate whatever phase of the journey you find yourself navigating.

    One of the ways in which heroes and heroines get off tracks is that people get seduced by myths about what it means to find and fulfill your calling. As I wrote about in 8 Myths About Finding Your Calling, your true soul’s purpose may not be what you think. So how can you tell if you’re on the right track? Here are a few signs.

    1. You’re terrified when you first hear the call.

    Caroline Myss warns, “God never calls you to something that doesn’t challenge you on the earth level. Why? You have to be tested, you have to be broken, you have to choose which voice you will listen to.” Everyone wants to feel the deep fulfillment of doing what you’re here on this earth to do, but most of us want that fulfillment without sacrificing our comfort zone. Yet most callings beckon you out of your comfort zone. We might try to compromise. “Can I please keep my comfort zone and still find and fulfill my calling?” The Universe probably giggles a little bit before saying, “No love. At some point, you have to choose. Are you all in? Or not?”

     2. Your true calling activates your life force.

    When you’re tuned into your real calling, you’ll feel filled with “Shakti,” that creative force of love that leaps you out of your chair into inspired actions that ignite your passion and burn a fire inside your soul. It’s not that you won’t get tired or feel drained sometimes. But you’ll feel as if Something Larger is taking you over and using you to fulfill a mission, and that feeling of getting used feels yummier than any regular old achievement. You may even find that your health improves, you attract a new love relationship, or you become an amazing person magnet, because this kind of life force is the very stuff that moves mountains, works miracles, and changes the world.

     3. Your calling doesn’t fit in a box.

    You can’t find a role model for anyone who is doing exactly what you’re being called to do. Usually, your calling will be perfectly unique, just for you. Someone else might offer you inspiration or share a similar calling to yours. But the way you will navigate the hero’s journey of your calling will be as unique as a fingerprint.  After I had quit my job as a doctor, back when I was still trying to figure out what in the world I was supposed to do next, I was searching for something I could join—some preexisting thing that would fit me like a glove. My mentor Kitchen Table Wisdom author Rachel Naomi Remen, MD said, “Don’t join something. Build something.” If your perfect job doesn’t exist, create it.

    4. You’ll realize that you’ve spent your whole life training for JUST THIS.

    Even what seemed like dismal failures and ginormous life mistakes turned out to inform what your soul is here on this earth to express. The addiction you recovered from, the divorce that failed to close your heart, the cancer you survived, the child you almost abused during your postpartum depression, the job that required you to sell your soul—all of it becomes grist for the mill and bench presses your compassion muscles, making youjust the perfect person to do what you’re here to do.

    5. Some people feel threatened by what you feel called to do.

    Many true callings will beckon you to disrupt the status quo. For those who are comfortable with things as they are, you may ruffle inner feathers and shine a light on things they may not want to see within themselves. We can be very sneaky about the ways in which we compromise our souls. When one of us starts living fully aligned with the soul’s integrity, other people who aren’t doing the same tend to get uncomfortable. This doesn’t mean you should let what everybody thinks hold you back from saying a big “Hell Yeah” to your calling. It may not feel like it, but you’re doing those people a favor by illuminating something true within them, even if they feel triggered by the illumination.

    6. Your calling seems to be a moving target.

    You may think callings are some black and white thing, and if only you could pick the right answer out of a catalog, you’d like happily ever after, feeling deeply fulfilled by the inner knowing that you’re contributing your gifts just as you’re meant to. But true callings don’t tend to work that way. Your calling may look like ten different professions in one lifetime. Or it could mean total loyalty to one job, during which you change evolve you personally show up for that job a dozen times. I once thought it was my calling to go to medical school and practice medicine as a doctor. Then I felt like I had missed my calling because I felt very strongly called to leave medicine. Then I felt called to make art about my patients with breast cancer. Then I felt called to write a book—or five. Then I felt called to found the Whole Health Medicine Institute, a training program for conscious health care providers, therapists, coaches, and healers. It’s not that I got my calling wrong. It’s just that callings are a journey, and sometimes, we’re only given one bread crumb at a time. As Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Faith is taking the first step when you can’t see the whole staircase.”

    7. You can only see your calling one clear step into the future.

    Callings don’t usually come with business plans, so you may feel called to make one inspired move—like quitting the wrong job or applying for a domain name or signing up for more education. But you may discover that after you’ve been brave enough to take that initial step, you feel a bit lost because the next step hasn’t been revealed yet. Don’t despair. You can’t rush your calling. Trust Divine timing and know that when the time is right for you to leap, you will be shown what to do—and you will recognize it.

    8. Callings don’t go away.

    You can quit your job, but you can’t quit your calling. You may find that you left behind what you thought was once a calling, but no longer feels like one. And yet, your calling keeps trailing you like a shadow. You don’t find callings. Callings find you—and like a true love, they won’t let you go. You may deny your calling for a long, long time, but callings are patient. They wear you down like a persistent two-year old, until you finally fall to your knees, bow down, and say, “I’m in.”

    9. You feel like an instrument of the Divine in the world.

    When you’ve really found your calling, you know it’s not YOU who’s doing that thing you do in the world. It’s an organizing intelligence, a Universal Love, a Benevolent Presence, God/Goddess—whatever you want to call this Thing That Takes You Over and uses you for sacred service. Your work begins to feel not like an act of ambition, but an offering of love. You care less about money (though there’s nothing wrong with a calling that offers you a comfortable living!) and more about living in alignment with your soul’s truth.

    10. Your calling opens your heart.

     You start noticing that your calling becomes your spiritual practice. Your growth edges get pushed. Your shadows get illuminated. Your relationships get tested. Your comfort zone gets threatened. Your ego gets stripped bare as onion layer after onion later of That Which Is Not Your True Nature gets peeled back. What you find at the core is your authentic self, your soul, or what I call in my new book The Anatomy of a Calling “Your Inner Pilot Light.” (Learn more about how to cultivate a relationship with your Inner Pilot Light here.) Your heart opens. Your capacity for compassion expands. The love within you overflows. You realize that really, your calling is all about showing you how to love.

    To learn more tips and tools for finding and fulfilling your calling, visit TheAnatomyOfACalling.com.

    Trusting your journey,

    lissa-signature

     

     

     

    PS. To film my book trailer, a film crew followed me all around my favorite haunts in the Bay Area—everywhere from the Muir Beach Overlook to Grace Cathedral. Watch it here if you’re curious. Also, the preorder bonuses are still available until December 28, in case you feel the uprising of shakti leaping you out of your chair to preorder this book. This will be the kind of book you’ll want to talk about in your book club, so buy several copies to share with friends who are also on a hero’s journey. You can check out the preorder bonuses and place your order here.

     

  • When You Know You’ve Veered off Course from Your Calling

    When You Know You’ve Veered off Course from Your Calling

    The following is an excerpt from my new memoir The Anatomy of a Calling. The Anatomy of a Calling is about finding and fulfilling your calling, using Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey as a map for what happens in between the moment when you hear The Call to Adventure and when you finally bring the Holy Grail home to your people who need it. This excerpt describes a particularly painful part of my hero’s journey and demonstrates what happens when we start to veer out of alignment with the integrity of the soul.

    I received the letter from my patient Fiona in my box at the office after a long night of delivering babies, when I had almost no reserve left. In her letter, Fiona explained that after she and her husband fought for the bazillionth time about the fact that they hadn’t had sex in over a year, he threatened to leave her if she didn’t go see a gynecologist to figure out what was wrong. Because my schedule was so packed, she waited two months to see me, praying I might have some magical solution that would save her marriage. I had taken care of her a few years back, and her recollection of me was that I was approachable, tender, funny, compassionate, and honest. She felt she could trust me.

    In her letter, Fiona explained that on the morning of her appointment, she showered, trimmed her pubic hair, and spritzed on her favorite perfume. She donned her laciest lingerie and wore her favorite dress. When she arrived at my office, she stood in line behind four other people signing in at the front desk and took her seat with the other twenty women in the waiting room.  She waited for over an hour, and long past her appointment time, my medical assistant finally put her in a room, where she was ordered to undress and left alone in a chilly room wearing nothing more than a paper gown for 20 minutes. By that time, feeling cold and uncomfortably vulnerable, she started to cry.

    Apparently, as she described in her letter, I didn’t acknowledge the tears or even apologize for the wait when I finally came in. Fiona wrote that I looked tired. My hair was up in a ponytail, my eyes were puffy and weary, and I wasn’t wearing any makeup.  I wore my white coat over my wrinkled green surgical scrubs, stretched over my pregnant belly.

    She wrote that I made small talk with her as I filled out some papers and got ready to perform her annual exam, but when I asked her if she was having any problems, Fiona hesitated. I stood with my back to her, not making eye contact. Because I was so distracted, she didn’t feel safe to share with me the uncomfortable story of her failing sex life. So she decided to keep her mouth shut. I performed her Pap smear, refilled her prescriptions, and left her alone in the room, kicking herself.

    When Fiona got home, she took off her finest dress and put away her lacy lingerie. It took her months to get brave enough to make an appointment with another doctor, but she had found a good one, who didn’t accept managed care insurance plans and no longer practiced obstetrics, so the doctor had been able to spend a whole hour with her. Her doctor was helping her to improve her hormone balance and getting her off antidepressants, and she and her husband were in therapy together.

    She wrote that she didn’t intend to judge me or shame me. She was raised to believe that you treat doctors with respect and don’t question their advice or their behavior. But she was so hurt by the encounter, so disappointed in my actions, that she felt like she wanted me to know, just in case it helped other patients. She wished me well and congratulated me on my pregnancy and expressed compassion for how busy she knew I was. She signed it, “I believe you’re still in there. Love, Fiona.”

    I wept when I read Fiona’s letter. The worst part was that I didn’t even remember the encounter, and I couldn’t conjure up an image of her face. Fiona was just another faceless, nameless number on the medical assembly line of my practice.

    What was happening to me? How had I let myself get so busy that I failed to notice that a patient of mine had been crying? I was called to medicine to be a healer. I was the “squirrel girl,” after all. But what kind of healer leaves a crying, naked woman with a health concern feeling the way Fiona did? When had I stopped caring?

    When I called Fiona at home to apologize after reading her letter, she thanked me for the phone call. She told me not to worry or feel badly. I felt unspeakably ashamed.

    ***

    When I was done with work, still stinging from Fiona’s letter and the grueling night shift I had just finished, I stopped by the grocery store. The only thing that was keeping me from my well-deserved bed was a pimply, teenage kid who couldn’t seem to get my groceries scanned. I stood there for what felt like an hour, spent, hungry, and disappointed in myself. The kid’s face was flushed and his brow was starting to sweat, and I could see him looking helplessly at the other clerks, who were all scanning and swiping with ease.

    Then I heard myself say something I still can’t believe came out of me.

    “If I did my job the way you did your job, there would be dead people everywhere.”

    Really. I actually said that.

    On my way home from the grocery store, a squirrel darted out in front of my car, and I felt my car thump over it. I thought about stopping, checking on the squirrel to see if there was any way I could save it. But I just kept driving, anesthetized and depleted, without even looking back in my rear view mirror.

    I couldn’t sleep that night, in spite of my exhaustion. I kept tossing from side to side like a tuna, my back hurting, feeling my baby kick my ribs. I thought about my father’s cancer. I thought about letting down Fiona and being mean to that poor kid. And the squirrel. The squirrel. Something felt squashed in my chest, like a vice was clenching my heart.  Tears would have felt welcome. They would have reminded me I was still alive. But they never came. I felt an uprising of pain but like a shaken Coke bottle with the top still on, the pain had nowhere to go.

    It was the first time I’ve ever thought about suicide.

    Just when I started thinking about how I would prefer to die if I killed myself, my baby kicked me, and I remembered that if I killed myself, I’d be killing not just me, but my little girl.

    Oh my God. I couldn’t even manage to kill myself.

    I felt a tornado of fury funnel up in me. I looked around for something to break—a plate or a vase maybe. But just as I was spinning in circles, finding nothing, I heard a voice.

    A gentle, loving whisper said, “Darling, they’re about to break you. You have to quit your job.”

    The moments that followed bathed me with what I can only describe as a flood of unconditional love unlike anything I had ever experienced, a waterfall of grace rushing over me and through me, filling my heart and body and mind with hope and peace.  I felt my whole nervous system relax. My mind became silent and I felt myself pop outside of my body until I was no longer Lissa; I was the burst-open consciousness witnessing Lissa in her pain with unbridled love, compassion, and tenderness. In that moment, the very idea that life could be painful felt almost absurd. Looking down on myself, I saw myself laughing out loud like a crazy person. Perhaps this is what it looked like to lose your mind, but if that’s what it felt like to become insane, I didn’t have any desire to return to the pain of sanity. I felt weightless, untethered, as if I could be everywhere at once and also nowhere at all, at home in the vast expanse of nothingness that felt, instead of empty, uncommonly full. The idea of suicide suddenly felt ludicrous.

    I felt as if I was ballooning all the way out of my body, growing bigger than the bed my body was still lying on, expanding bigger than the bedroom, bigger than the house, bigger even than San Diego itself, as if I was exploding into the atmosphere and beyond, becoming starlight itself, pure weightless, timeless joy and aliveness, glancing back at the earth with unspeakable awe.

    Wow. This is awesome . . .

    But then, as quickly as I had popped into this ecstatic state of consciousness, I flipped out of it. Jolted back into my body, I felt accosted by another voice, a cruel, judging voice that said “What are you talking about? You can’t quit your job! You’re about to have a baby. You have a mortgage. Plus, you spent twelve years sacrificing everything so you could be a doctor. You’d be stupid and reckless if you left your job. And what would everybody think? Doctors don’t just quit their jobs, especially when they have medical school debt and responsibilities. Not to mention that your dying father would be so disappointed in you. Don’t be silly. You have a great job. You have a terrific husband. You live in a gorgeous house. You should suck it up and be grateful for what you have. Now go back to sleep and stop being an idiot.”

    But the tender, nurturing voice was insistent. “You don’t have to do it now, sweetheart. But the time is coming for you to quit your job, so get ready. And don’t worry. Everything will be okay, and you will not be alone.”

    The mean voice piped up, “Don’t listen to that nonsense!”

    The loving voice said, “Your father is a 59 year old doctor who will die in three months. That could be you.  If you found out you only had three months to live, would you be living the life you’re living?”

    My answer was a resounding, “HELL, NO.”

    But how could I quit my job? and I had promised to pay the bills for both of us. I’d have to sell my house. And how could I possibly afford the $120,000 malpractice tail I’d have to pay for the privilege of quitting my job? How would we afford a place in San Diego? We’d have to move. Quitting my job would require a total life overhaul. It was too much to even consider.

    The gentle voice said, “You don’t have to do anything yet. Just make peace with the truth.” I could feel the warmth of that voice surrounding me like a hug. My pulse slowed down. My breathing deepened. I felt invisible arms holding me as I curled up in bed, and the next thing I remember, the sun was rising over San Diego Bay the next morning.

    ***

    I didn’t feel the least bit heroic that night. I was still a hero mired in my victim story in the Ordinary World. But what I didn’t know at the time is that my hero’s journey began that night with the appearance of the loving, gentle voice speaking the truth I had been unwilling to admit to myself. I had no idea what I was being called to do. I thought medicine was my calling, but my gut instincts, the chronic sick feeling in my stomach, my health issues, Fiona’s letter—they all felt like signs from the Universe that something wasn’t right. I was being called to do something else, but when I picked up that jangling phone, the message wasn’t clear at all.

    Maybe you’re still slogging through the Ordinary World like I was, reassuring yourself that things could be so much worse, and you should just feel grateful for what you have. You may still be blind to even the possibility that your life could be so much more. You may not even realize how you’ll one day look back at this time in your life and recognize how relatively dysfunctional, dull, and joy-deficient your Ordinary World was compared to how you’ll feel when you find the courage to say “Yes” to your hero’s journey. But one day, when you reflect back, you’ll understand that it was all a necessary and natural part of the journey, just like it is for every hero. You’ll understand that it was all happening in perfect timing and you were exactly where you were supposed to be until the moment when you were ready to pick up the phone.

    If you’ve heard a voice warning you that change is afoot, you probably can’t see what lies ahead yet, but you have a strong sense that there’s something more, and that the time for you to embark upon your new adventure is coming soon. This is the first step of your hero’s journey.

    Preorder The Anatomy of a Calling to learn how to navigate the rough patches of your own hero’s journey. This book is about me and my story, but really, it’s about you and your story. Each chapter tells my story but also offers practical guideposts and practices to facilitate whatever part of the hero’s journey you’re facing now in your own journey to find and fulfill your unique soul’s purpose.

    LEARN MORE & PREORDER NOW

    Love,

    lissa-signature