Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.
What matters in life? What am I here for? These questions have always troubled me.
I remember sitting in the sixth form common room, drinking a cup of tea, when my friend approached me with a barely-contained expression of concern and enquired whether or not I had submitted my UCAS application. It was really thanks to her that I made it to university, since the truth was I hadn’t even realised I was about to miss the deadline.
In those days I wasn’t known for my organisational skills, but in this case my negligence was symptomatic of something else. I was frozen with fear.
Everyone else in the class seemed to know exactly where their lives were headed. In fact it appeared to me that they had always known. There were the Oxbridge candidates who were receiving extra guidance from the faculty, the vets and doctors who had always excelled at science, the future teachers, musicians, actors, marketeers, entrepreneurs and managers. How was it that everyone but me seemed so certain in their choices?
What did I want? I had absolutely no idea. In the end I chose English and Philosophy, simply because English had always been my favourite subject and I think someone had once suggested that I could think about a career in journalism. Splitting my subjects was just another expression of indecisiveness, but Philosophy also had the benefit of being a subject that encouraged its students to consider impossible questions – like ‘what matters in life?’ and ‘what am I here for?’. I enjoyed studying, but by the time I left university I was no more certain about what my life meant than when I arrived.
After university I took many different jobs from waitressing to assisting the managing director of a technology company, and from fundraising for NGOs to running marketing portfolios for corporate events. In my spare time I was reading about neurology and trying to understand human motivation, while also dabbling in numerous hobbies without ever committing to developing any skill (guitar and photography being prime examples). I also spent eight wonderful months travelling across Australia, New Zealand and South East Asia in a somewhat cliched attempt to find myself. In short, I was developing endless interests but no direction.
The trouble with having no direction is that people don’t like uncertainty. Society is constructed in such a way as to reward clarity of purpose and elevate those who play by the rules. That means having a stable relationship, children and a mortgage by the time you are thirty-five, and a career that progresses in a predictable pathway of increasing responsibility and status.
By contrast, my relationship history is complex, to put it kindly, and my CV has been described as ‘job-hoppy’ by many a prospective employer. There have been many times that I have analysed this and tried to force my brain into one of those neat boxes. Date the man who is kind and dependable, not the one that makes you feel alive. Choose a job that pays the bills and work your way up, and make sure you stay for at least five years to show commitment.
The truth is, I don’t have five years to waste on a job or a man or anything that doesn’t resonate with who I am. I began this article with a quote – some say it was by Einstein but there considerable debate surrounding the authorship, in any event, it reads:
Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.
I move on because I don’t want to be the fish stuck in the proverbial tree. I don’t want to spend my life struggling to climb from one branch to the next, when I know perfectly well that I’m in the wrong environment. Like the fish, I wouldn’t be able to breathe or be my true self. What is more, I know that it would probably be impossible to get out of that toxic tree once I reach the top.
I cherish my right to be free in the vast open ocean of ideas and possibilities. With every crashing wave and changing tide I discover something new and exciting. It isn’t safe or predictable, but I choose to smile and embrace the chaos.
hereonenow 