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A review by richardrbecker
Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life by Gregg Levoy
informative
reflective
slow-paced
3.25
Callings: Finding and Following Authentic Life may deserve a higher rating than a three because it contains several worthwhile gems that could help someone unhook themselves from whatever society compelled them to do and find their true calling. But the work Gregg Levoy asks us to do as readers to ferret those gems out gives me pause. It's a lengthy, overwritten tome that feels considerably longer than its 329-page count (and noticeably thin margins).
One of my favorite gems, in fact, is something I've taken to heart and already passed on to my children. Levoy rightly says it takes more effort to prevent yourself from following a calling than it does to follow one. For example, if you are an artist but never make time for art because you feel guilty about the time it would take away from more routine tasks, you could inadvertently expend more energy than if you just made time to do it. You could even be making yourself miserable and unhealthy.
This thought gem more than makes up for the price of admission, but not all of them do. Calling is primarily an extensive collection of short essays that consist of one part anecdotal life experience and one part historical wisdom that Levoy has chanced upon. These essays, in turn, are organized into an outline of sorts, roughly divided into removing barriers and being open; receiving calls through dreams, omens, and intuition; taking pilgrimages of sorts to find one's true direction; and knowing which calls to say no to and which to invite right into your life. After the essays, Levoy includes resources and bibliography as inspiration to keep the conversation going.
The first two parts read stronger than the final three, when it becomes a bit more of a slog of support essays that attempt to shore up some larger points. And some, like looking out for a mentor, feel like they could be better placed. It would have fit better in the beginning, perhaps one of those pilgrimages he mentions, as we've all experienced times when we've encountered the right teachers at the right times in our lives — often when we're trying to be receptive to our true calling.
Who knows? Maybe Levoy is one of those teachers for someone. There are times he comes across like a mentor, like when he writes something like: "A key is made for only one purpose. To fit a lock. Not just any lock. One lock. Anyone who feels made to do one particular thing in this world but is unable to do it becomes, in a sense, an unreconciled key." But then there are times that he digresses into something else: "In my sleep, when I dream of being chased, I'm sometimes aware that if only I could get myself to wake up, I'd be safe." He writes this to introduce the concept of an inner captain, but this particular essay muddles more than it provides clarity, like the key concept. Ergo, he would have done better saving the thought for another book.
So therein lies my struggle with this book. It does its job of examining the various kinds of calls we receive and how to act on them. But sometimes, the author gets lost in his calling as a storyteller, telling us things that just get in the way. Enough so, I might revisit the book with a highlighter to cut its content neatly in half or a third. And then, having done so, I would appreciate it all the more with less of it.
One of my favorite gems, in fact, is something I've taken to heart and already passed on to my children. Levoy rightly says it takes more effort to prevent yourself from following a calling than it does to follow one. For example, if you are an artist but never make time for art because you feel guilty about the time it would take away from more routine tasks, you could inadvertently expend more energy than if you just made time to do it. You could even be making yourself miserable and unhealthy.
This thought gem more than makes up for the price of admission, but not all of them do. Calling is primarily an extensive collection of short essays that consist of one part anecdotal life experience and one part historical wisdom that Levoy has chanced upon. These essays, in turn, are organized into an outline of sorts, roughly divided into removing barriers and being open; receiving calls through dreams, omens, and intuition; taking pilgrimages of sorts to find one's true direction; and knowing which calls to say no to and which to invite right into your life. After the essays, Levoy includes resources and bibliography as inspiration to keep the conversation going.
The first two parts read stronger than the final three, when it becomes a bit more of a slog of support essays that attempt to shore up some larger points. And some, like looking out for a mentor, feel like they could be better placed. It would have fit better in the beginning, perhaps one of those pilgrimages he mentions, as we've all experienced times when we've encountered the right teachers at the right times in our lives — often when we're trying to be receptive to our true calling.
Who knows? Maybe Levoy is one of those teachers for someone. There are times he comes across like a mentor, like when he writes something like: "A key is made for only one purpose. To fit a lock. Not just any lock. One lock. Anyone who feels made to do one particular thing in this world but is unable to do it becomes, in a sense, an unreconciled key." But then there are times that he digresses into something else: "In my sleep, when I dream of being chased, I'm sometimes aware that if only I could get myself to wake up, I'd be safe." He writes this to introduce the concept of an inner captain, but this particular essay muddles more than it provides clarity, like the key concept. Ergo, he would have done better saving the thought for another book.
So therein lies my struggle with this book. It does its job of examining the various kinds of calls we receive and how to act on them. But sometimes, the author gets lost in his calling as a storyteller, telling us things that just get in the way. Enough so, I might revisit the book with a highlighter to cut its content neatly in half or a third. And then, having done so, I would appreciate it all the more with less of it.