I’ve been in a mental rut this past week.
It was rainy and cold for about five days straight in Houston, which could be why I felt like there was a cloud over my head. But more importantly, I’ve been riding an emotional rollercoaster that includes a career change and my upcoming wedding, among a lot of other things.
I was on a walk with my fiancée on Wednesday and I tried to spell out how I was feeling to her. It had stopped raining for a few minutes so we threw on our jackets and did our usual one-mile loop through the park near our apartment building.
“I wish this were easier,” I said. “I seem to always find the path of most resistance, or put myself in the most difficult positions to succeed.”
As I’ve been traversing this career change, I’ve been feeling as if the door has been slammed in my face multiple times. And, that there haven’t been any clear paths to achieving my goals. I know this seems sort of vague, but allow me to try to explain while I keep some thoughts to myself since they’re still cooking in the oven.
To understand what I mean you’ll need some background.
When most of my friends graduated college, they went off and got secure jobs, had clear career trajectories, and lived in cities that were either near their families or suitable for their career choice.
I, on the other hand, fell in love and made a series of life choices that from an outsider’s perspective probably made no sense. But, alas, I’ve followed my heart, and here I am.
Before the start of my senior year in college, I started dating my now-fiancée, Noa. Even though she was a year younger than me and I would graduate before her, we both knew that we wanted to try our best to make things work. This was even more complicated by the fact that we were both from different cities.
Anyway, I figured that for the year that she was still in school, I could get my feet under me, find a job, and maybe when she was done with school we’d find a way to be near each other. In college, I studied English Literature, and Political Science, and took a lot of Arabic language classes. Again, careerwise this also makes little sense. But at the time, I was focused mostly on playing soccer professionally after college. I chose a major and took classes in subjects that interested me more than ones that I thought would lead to the highest-paying jobs.
After searching for a job for months, I finally got the opportunity to go work as a news producer in the Middle East. I figured since Noa was still in school for the time being I could roam around and get some much-needed work experience. So I signed a year-long contract, packed my bags, and jumped on the next flight to Doha, Qatar.
If I had told you that my goal was to stay together with Noa and find a secure and fulfilling job, then you probably would have told me that moving to what seemed like the furthest corner of the globe for a temporary contract was insane. If you remove emotion from the equation then this decision was in fact insane. But to me, it felt right.
Leaving behind the woman I loved and moving to a country where I knew absolutely no one for an entire year was one of the most challenging things I’ve done, but something inside me drove me forward and told me it was worth it.
And indeed it was. It was one of the most impactful experiences in my life. And, a year later when the pandemic hit, I was able to keep working for the same company remotely and move to Dallas, where Noa lived.
She was working at a research lab at the University of Texas Southwestern in Dallas and applying to medical schools. Her job required her to be present in person, so we rented a small apartment just ten minutes from her job. Meanwhile, my career was still up in the air.
I was working three days a week remotely, and two days per week for a production studio in Dallas. At the time, I wanted to build a career in media production. The job in the production studio was giving me great experience on film sets and in documentary production, but I couldn’t commit to them full-time.
Since Noa was applying to medical schools we knew there was a high chance that we would be moving. Besides, both of us wanted to leave Dallas eventually. So, I needed to keep my other more stable job, for the time being.
After nearly two years in Dallas, Noa got into medical school in Houston. Oh yeah, and before that, we got engaged. So, just as I was breaking into the film scene in Dallas and starting to envision a sustainable career in film and television production, we packed up and moved away. Time to start over, again.
In retrospect, while moving away and starting over has been an immense challenge, it has once again been worth it.
I firmly believe everyone needs a purpose in life–a reason to keep on going and make the most of each day. I don’t believe it has to be some grand save-the-world type of purpose or that it has to align with your career choice. But for some reason, for as long as I can remember I’ve been dead-set on finding a purpose–something on which to direct my focus and ambitions–and also a career that aligns with that purpose.
I know that career and purpose don’t necessarily go hand in hand for most people. I could very well continue on my current career path or go find some other stable job that pays the bills, but I want to do more than pay the bills. I want to find long-term fulfillment. If I am going to do something every day for most of the day and most of my life, then I want to find joy and purpose in that activity. If my current daily routine doesn’t fill up my spiritual cup then I must look elsewhere.
Is it too idealistic and dreamy to strive for something so ethereal? I don’t think so.
In the 1930s, my great-grandparents on my mom’s side fled persecution in Nazi Germany and sailed across the world to build a better life. They found themselves in a completely new culture where they didn’t know the language. All they had were the pennies in their pockets and the clothes on their backs.
Meanwhile, my great-grandparents on my dad’s side left war-torn Beirut and sailed to Havana, dreaming of a better life. Two decades later, my grandfather and grandmother came to the United States during Cuba’s violent revolution.
My ancestors built a life from scraps. When they were my age they had only one goal: to provide for their families. They had no time or money for such airy-fairy, idealistic ambitions as finding ‘purpose’. Their purpose was to put food on the table.
If God had called them to be a writer or a poet or a doctor or a musician, they would have to hang up the phone. Life’s needs were too immediate.
But alas, they toiled and labored–probably in jobs they hated–and by the sweat from their brows they gave their descendants a better life. Now, here I am, with all my immediate needs met thanks to their hard work, and I am talking about some ideal purpose in life? Yes, precisely.
Why? Because I can. Thanks to my ancestors, I am completely free to do what I want.
The tree that my parents and grandparents planted so many years ago, has finally borne fruit. Now, if God calls me to some larger purpose, I must answer the call. It’s my responsibility and my moral obligation to honor my ancestors by pursuing my calling. It’s what they worked so hard for–absolute freedom to do what you’ve been called to do.
Since moving to Houston, I’ve repeatedly felt God, or the universe, or whatever divine energy you subscribe to, calling me toward a new path in life. Still, when I think about this new objective it feels impossible–like I am staring at the foot of Mount Everest and I have no idea how I’ll get to the top.
So when I was on that walk last week with Noa, I was lamenting how challenging everything felt and how frustrated I was at the challenge of pursuing these new life goals.
Later that night I went to the climbing gym as I do on most Wednesdays. While resting between attempts on a difficult boulder I stopped and thought about the activity I was doing.
“What is the whole point of climbing?” I thought.
In case you’re reading this and don’t know much about climbing I’ll break it down for you.
There are many different forms of climbing but the objective is mostly all the same. The goal of climbing is not just to get up a rock wall or a boulder. That’s no fun. The goal of climbing is simple: to climb a rock the hardest possible way. The harder a route the more rewarding it is when you get to the top.
The most beautiful feeling in climbing is when you complete a challenging climb with grace and elegance. You can feel the physical effects of your hard work and focus pay off. Sometimes when I’m climbing I’ll try the first move on a route and it will feel impossible. I can barely grip the first hold and I see absolutely no way up to the top. Then after some attempts and working on it with friends, it starts to feel possible. Then little by little, I work my way up. Until one day, I can finish the route from start to finish.
In bouldering, the type of climbing that involves climbing mostly low-to-the-ground boulders, the difficulties are graded on a scale of V0, the easiest, all the way to V17 and beyond, expert level. Recently I’ve been working on an outdoor V7 boulder near Austin. For me, it’s the hardest grade I’ve ever climbed outside of a gym. In climbing lingo, if you spend time working on a specific route, it's called a project. This particular boulder has been my winter project. When I first started working on it, even the first move felt miles out of my league. It was a steep overhang route with some very powerful moves. I tried it for the first time in September and felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. Epic failure.
Instead of feeling discouraged, I decided to do some research on climbing-specific strength training and I came up with a plan on how to work for it. I came up with a weekly workout regimen that included running, weighted pull-ups, shoulder strength exercises, and hangboarding for finger strength.
A few months later, I drove back to Austin to try my project again. While I didn’t complete the route this time, I felt immensely stronger. In fact, I felt like all that was missing was my footwork. The strength to finish it was there, I just needed to refine some technique.
In other words, I needed better beta. In climb-speak beta is like the recipe for a climb. It's the sequence of moves, footwork, and technique that climbers share with each other to help each other succeed. Climbers often work together to figure out the beta for difficult climbs. Most of the time, climbing a route successfully is not an individual feat but a collective one. I often find that I can climb two or even three grades higher when I am trying things with other climbers. It takes a village, as they say.
This is where I am at in life as well as climbing… While I’ve been frustrated at the start of my life’s new ‘route’ I need to remember that it’s only the beginning. Life, like climbing, isn’t about finding the easiest way to do something. It’s about leaning into the challenge, finding ways to build strength, about being persistent, and most importantly about leaning on others to find the best ‘beta’ for any of life’s projects.
Sometimes, the path of most resistance is the most rewarding. It sure is in climbing.
Note to self: keep going.
Really enjoyed reading this! Even when we check off one of these goals there's always a new grade awaiting.
Fantastic read Chris. I wanted to point out this statement you made, "The tree that my parents and grandparents planted so many years ago, has finally borne fruit." We are the fruit of the vine from which our ancestors cultivated! Although times have changed and the future is ever present, our ancestors paved a way for us to flourish. Under the same reasoning, how will we contribute to our great-great-great grandchildren?
I think that finding an everyday job is a very small portion of this contribution. Finding your calling (which obviously can be a job) shows the future generations your desire to reach such a goal. This can be exhausting at times, but what is striving to a calling/goal without a little bit of sweat and blood. Like you said, "Life, like climbing, isn’t about finding the easiest way to do something." This couldn't have been said any more beautifully. Great read.