Our Proudest Accomplishments Are Often the Quiet Ones

“… I kept trying to escape. And I almost did. But the truth seems to force you to be healthy if you live in the real world. ”~ Kenzaburō Ōe, Personal Story

I recently listened to an interview with author Kenzaburō Ōe, who won the 1994 Nobel Prize for Literature. Eighty-one, now eighty-one years old, is a major figure in Japanese literature and plays a prominent role in Pacifist and anti-nuclear organizations.

When asked what he accomplished that he was proud of for his long and distinguished career, he replied, without a doubt, that for the past forty years he had been living at home every night to put his mentally disabled son to bed.

Her response hit me as hard as I could. For the most part of my life as an adult I was driven by my job.

Of course, I had a family to support. I had to work. But sometimes I was so absorbed in myself that I put my own interests ahead of my own.

My job was in higher education, and for more than two decades, I had been pursuing a career in this world. Almost every movement of the artist I performed was carefully calculated to bring me closer to job security.

I attended conferences, wrote papers, taught overseas, and continued to use my teaching methods. Then I found out - my dream job of teaching English at a small community college in a small town.

About the same time that I discovered that for many in the university world is crème de la crème: the Fulbright research study.

For six months I lived in northern India where I was to study, write and work on building a teaching center between an Indian university and a college where I taught.

If anything, I thought Fulbright would help defend my career.

It didn't. In time, three weeks before I was scheduled to return home from India, the college expelled me.

At a time when many people were starting to think about retiring with some security, my job and financial stability were taken away from under my feet.

I felt betrayed, angry, frustrated, and afraid. My spiritual routine of compassion and acceptance was put to the test. To this day, I have a problem forgiving colleagues who turn me down.

We humans are remarkably resilient, but life has a way of introducing us to the lessons we need. While rebuilding a new job, I learned that my most important success was not related to my progress.

What about you? Are your desires outside of you?

Occupational safety, a comfortable home to live in, good schools for our children are all legitimate aspirations, but in itself will only bring more happiness.

In a moment any of them may disappear.

Instead, ask yourself:

Am I happy?

Am I calm?

Is stress a part of my daily life?

Am I kind?

Am I compassionate?

Do I listen when someone needs me?

Am I doing all I can?

It is not easy to redefine yourself without work. Often the first thing we tell an acquaintance is what we do. I am a teacher, artist, scientist, businessman, or restaurant clerk. It's almost like being human is not enough.

Eventually, I was able to look back on my career that I had lost even more. I saw my colleagues burning up before the semester started and the political climate was bad. At least four different pastors came and passed three years as they tried to fill the vacancy I had been fired from.

Then I stopped paying attention.

After a brief stay with the local newspaper, I moved to a quiet, uninhabited area in the highlands far from the city. The online teaching profession at a different college gave me enough money to make a living, and I started selling some articles and pictures.

Sometimes I struggle with feelings of inadequacy. After all, I spent years and a lot of money earning my Masters degree. Teaching was my job.

Did I really give up on living in a small, dusty town that seemed out of the way?

Time and practice meditation are helpful, and when those feelings should have a profound effect on me, I have to admit it. I'm more depressed than I am and technically thriving.

After listening to an interview with Kenzaburō Ōe one hot summer afternoon, I began to study some of his works.

He writes about the exile, the lies we tell others, and the lies we tell about our own survival. And he writes of victories of peace and prosperity and integrity. He writes about how his mentally handicapped son brings unimaginable depth to his love.

Today what I have achieved is silent. I try to live as long as possible, practicing forgiveness, especially when it's difficult, and when others need me. I try to love well.

My life is not perfect and there are many things I would love one day: a home by the sea, a fireplace, a car with air conditioning, and a bottle of Shalalim oil. But I do not support my happiness in these things, and if I never get any of them, it will not matter.

Although all my work is online, I sometimes get tired of filing papers or finishing an article at the last minute, but it doesn't bother me the way it used to work because I work on my own.

Almost all of us know the maxim that travel, not the most important place, and this can be the most important lesson of losing my dream career.

The definition of accomplishment has changed. I have less money but more control over my time. And the time I have, I never feel we are ruined even if I just sit and look out the window.

There is a simple beauty, and peace can be found when we are happy with what we have.