I realized today that I spent my life trying to live into a version of success that belongs to the ideas of my dead Pakistani aunties. They were Canadian immigrants who held professions, raised families, went to church, and did the things good church-going people would do – except be kind. They lived and died by their beliefs. Their values decided the worth of a life by one’s profession. This meant taxi drivers, and the short-order cooks fell somewhere lower on the scale next to the office worker, while the office worker worshiped at the feet of the doctor and lawyer.
A ‘calling’ only mattered if one joined the church. In which case, it was perfectly acceptable to hide within a calling. And many did.
Perfecting a craft only mattered if it came with a respectable title.
I failed to live up to their version of success.
However, in my long and varied entrepreneurial career, I have jumped into unknown depths learning how to swim on my way down. I’ve built lives, started things that still stand and paved the way for others.
Sorry Aunty Monica, I never claimed a title. You should have advised the family to put me in art school instead of electronics when I came to Canada as an adult.
Ah, well. I’m retired now, and there is still plenty of life left to go. I’m going to write about art and honesty. I’ll hone my craft along the way and hopefully inspire others to step out of their shadows and shine in their own light.
365 Days is my personal practise of putting out words and images each day.