You’ve found that first mistake, haven’t you? I can’t help but tweak words; it’s one of the greatest pleasures of my life. “It’s the Day of Independence in the US,” I realized as I wrote down the 4th of July in my diary.

Sometimes, the simplest thoughts can become the most profound reflections. Did you notice?

What does it really mean, for any of us, to be independent today?

I thought being independent meant finding a job, leaving your parents’ house, and living on your own, the way you choose. To make your own decisions. I don’t think I was too far from the truth, but this was only a part of that equation. 

Because once you leave, you’re just another product of society. A follower. Have you felt that too? This strange image of freedom, this illusion someone prescribed?

Now, as I write this down, I realize how uneasy it still makes me feel.

Incoming: Your calling is calling

Yes? Who’s calling? Your calling.

Mine’s not calling. 

Or is it? 

I can’t hear.

Oh, yours called?

What should I do then?

I thought I found my calling some time ago. My own path, my own independence. We often get deceived, don’t we? We think we know where we are, and exactly when we are too sure about ourselves, we discover we might be wrong. Or our discovery path is much longer than we imagined. Oops, wrong. Keep moving. Go, go, continue.

But where? These anxious moments come and go.

When uneasy moments arrive and nothing feels clear, we often look for comfort, someone to point us in the right direction, or help us make a decision. Reading books about other people’s lives brings similar situations but different perspectives to our own. It’s amusing because I’ve always disliked reading. I always found it boring. Looking back, I believe it was more impatience than boredom. The lack of focus. The constant hovering.

But a few years ago, I started reading more. 

As I was reading a book called Mastery, the author talked about famous people and their inclinations, their calling. Their own separation from the norm. Separation from those whom their parents wanted them to become. 

DaVinci, Einstein, or Proust are all considered Masters and geniuses today. And we think they must have been born like that. The author says the contrary. They just never stopped following and seeking their true calling, and spent a long, long time perfecting their craft. And perhaps that’s what separates those who want to grow from those who actually grow – the courage to circle back to what feels right.

Reading stories of other people can encourage us to live our lives differently. To learn from their mistakes or to get inspired. These specific stories urge us to slow down, look back, and ask ourselves in all of this chaos:

What were my inclinations as a child? What were yours? You know, the things we did before we knew they could become ‘useful’? What were those first steps towards becoming who we’re meant to be? To live our lives based on who we really are.

Our precious memories

It’s been some time since I’ve had memories from my childhood reappear. My whole life, I loved to write. We all had something like this, something small where we could lose track of time too easily. I didn’t write very often, but I found expressing myself through writing very satisfying.

Creating my own riddles, writing my journal, and using a secret language to code “the hidden” messages…I loved the tiny notebooks, so naturally, I became a regular at the local stationery store.

This is the notebook I used to buy for my stories at the local stationery store.

Later, as technology and my knowledge advanced, I learned to record a voiceover with an old microphone and burn it to a CD. My first and only audiobook. Limited edition. The stories were about the letters of the alphabet, and each letter had a dedicated tale. Assuming my tendencies, I probably got only as far as the letter ‘E’. Patience has never been one of my strengths.

Remember these? This was a must-have item in my shopping cart from time to time.

Learning to use computers was a whole new world to me. I could start writing my stories digitally. “Dream big”, they said. I think I wanted to go global. I illustrated some quick images so I could finish the project as soon as possible. I scanned my drawings and attached them to my Microsoft Word story. I had a hard time filling it up. These books were unfortunately limited by my poor, voluntary literacy — yep, as I already mentioned, I didn’t read much, and my imagination took a toll on this. Or was it that impatience again? Can’t tell.

When the calling comes back for you

At some point, maybe you’ll come back to what you were doing as a child. It tickles you. I don’t know who sends these contractions, but thank you.

The burst of all possible emotions comes your way, and no way to express them. You can’t let go of it, you can’t contain it. I’ve heard of this already–inability to keep whatever there is that needs to get out of you. It’s like you need to throw up the words. The experiences. The emotions. You just don’t know how. Just listen to that voice, that tickling. It’s important to follow it.

And maybe that’s the point of it all — not to find a single answer, but to keep returning to the small clues that keep returning. Perhaps, independence means choosing to follow the small inclinations shown to us many moons ago. Again and again. To discover who we are and to follow our own path. Separating ourselves from the group, leaving the conventions we used to follow behind.

Two years later, I’m still following that tickle. Maybe you have one too — something small but persistent. Something that’s patiently been waiting to be followed.

Oh, and before I forget. Happy Independent Day! Keep going, and I’m sure you’ll find it soon.

Yours truly,