After my last post, I thought of a few more things it’s helpful to consider when deciding whether to pursue a career that strongly interests us.  Like I said before, I’m not specifically coming out for or against seeking the work you love — that’s a decision each person must make for themselves based on their own wants and needs.  I’m pointing to questions it’s important to ask when making that choice.

Doing work we’re deeply engaged in usually goes hand in hand with being vulnerable — exposing parts of ourselves it feels risky to share.  If you’re a blogger, I’ll bet you’ve experienced this sense of vulnerability when writing on something you strongly cared about.  “Do I really want people to know I feel this way?” you may have found yourself asking.

Often, revealing these parts of ourselves feels risky because they’ve been criticized or ridiculed before, and they feel fragile.  If you were told “no one thinks you’re funny” when you were little, allowing your sense of humor to emerge in something you’re writing is likely to feel unsafe.  Someone might make a similar comment, and then you’d be forced to relive the pain of that old wound.

The Perks Of Disengaged Work

This points to a reason why many of us are doing jobs that don’t deeply engage us.  In most jobs, we don’t need to bring out tender parts of ourselves to do our tasks.  You don’t usually have to expose your sense of humor, your compassion, or some other vulnerable aspect of yourself to draft a PowerPoint, plug values into a spreadsheet, or review documents.

I know many people who prefer this approach to work.  After all, they risk getting hurt enough in their personal relationships — why bring that vulnerability into what they do for a living?  And it’s okay with them if working feels mechanical, because they find exciting things to do in their off hours.  As the saying goes, they work to live — they don’t live to work.

Can You Separate “Work” From “Life”?

Although it’s easier in some ways to “work to live,” that approach, like anything, has drawbacks.  For some of us, when we don’t bring all of ourselves to our work, we’re nagged by the worry that we aren’t giving our gifts to the world.

To take my earlier example, it’s true that, if you do work that doesn’t require you to express your sense of humor, you don’t take the risk that someone will criticize that part.  But by locking that part away, you also keep people from enjoying it — you deny people a gift.

Also, the idea of “working to live” — disengaging from your work, but showing up fully in other activities — sounds good in theory, but the reality is messier.  You can’t work for 8+ hours a day with a detached, emotionless attitude and expect that not to spill over into other parts of your life.

I know this from experience.  I took pride in the work I did as a lawyer, but I wouldn’t exactly say my most vulnerable parts shone through in it.  I spent my working days in a cool, rational headspace, which was ideal for what I did.  The trouble was, I found myself, out of habit, slipping into this mindset with friends and loved ones — relating to them like they were colleagues or adversaries.

If you do something you really care about, you’ll almost certainly have to let others see parts of you that you normally keep under wraps.  This involves a risk, but also a great reward, because offering all you have to give brings a feeling of aliveness that’s exhilarating.

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(I’m still tweaking the Work Consciously site a bit, so I thought I’d tide you all over with my latest musing.)

Earlier this month, as you probably heard, only 51% of the Americans surveyed in a Conference Board study reported that they find their jobs interesting — the lowest number in 22 years.  On the surface, this may seem like a problem.  But my sense, from working with clients and just talking to people I know, is that many of us actually don’t want to do profoundly interesting work.  And I think that’s perfectly okay.

Some Like It Smooth

For many people, in my experience, work offers an escape from the emotional messiness of the rest of their lives.  When they’re in the office, they don’t have to handle conflicts with family and loved ones, ponder what they’re really contributing to the world, or do anything else that requires them to feel deeply.  And when they go home, they can leave it all behind them for the evening and relax — because they aren’t very invested in the projects they’re working on, they don’t find themselves obsessing over those projects after hours.

People who find their work really meaningful and interesting, on the other hand, don’t seem to experience working this way.  When we care deeply about what we’re doing, the stakes are higher — our accomplishments are more exciting, but our failures also carry a sharper sting.

Look at artists who are seriously devoted to their craft, for example — they suffer to produce their work in a way that the typical employee does not.  When the painters and sculptors I know tell me about how they experience their work, I can easily see how the term “tortured artist” came to be.

This is one reason why, I think, we’ve seen a lot of recent writing questioning whether the common personal development idea of “finding the work you love” is really all it’s cracked up to be.  (See Lisis B.’s post, for instance.)

If you change careers or start your own business to do something that feels meaningful, you not only set yourself up for financial uncertainty — you also board an emotional rollercoaster that the average 9-to-5 job simply doesn’t entail.  It’s certainly not going to feel like “work you love” all the time — in fact, there will probably be moments when you loathe it more deeply than any “regular job” you’ve ever done.  (I’m speaking from personal experience.)

Some Prefer Extreme Sports

Obviously, pursuing “the work we love” has its drawbacks.  And, like anything else, it has its perks.  For one thing, the emotional rollercoaster we ride when we do work that we care deeply about can be a blessing as well as a curse. 

There’s something appealing about having a life full of peaks and valleys, rather than one that’s merely a stroll across flat ground.  I suspect this is why people do “extreme sports” like mountain climbing and skydiving — the fear we feel when we do such things, although it’s unpleasant, has a certain aliveness about it that I think we all crave.

So this is my take on the issue of whether to seek out the “work you love”:  it’s a choice each person needs to make for themselves, with both eyes open.  People who prefer a smoother emotional experience, and are in a job where they feel comfortable, may be better off staying where they are. 

But if, like some people, you want a richer emotional life in what you do — bigger ups and downs, and a stronger sense of aliveness — doing something that feels deeply meaningful might be for you.

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A while back, I had a client—I’ll call her Jane—who, like many people I work with, was interested in a career change.  Jane had several great ideas in mind.  Unfortunately, she was also great at coming up with reasons why they wouldn’t work, and when she came to see me she was feeling pretty despondent.

We talked a bit about the possibilities Jane had considered, and why she was convinced none of them would pan out.  She couldn’t be an artist, she said, because she wasn’t talented enough.  She couldn’t be a therapist, because she didn’t want to spend all that time and money getting a degree.  She couldn’t start a new business because the economy is in a downturn.  And so on.

The more we talked, the more I started to wonder:  could anything work out for Jane, or was everything impossible?  And eventually I asked her:  “does anything look possible for you at all?”

Jane thought for a little while.  “No,” she finally said.  Oddly, although she’d just realized how bleak and hopeless the world looked to her, she gave a slight smile.  “Actually, that’s kind of silly.”

What Is A Lens?
 
In that moment, Jane caught a glimpse of what I call the lens through which she was seeing the world—the set of deep-seated assumptions she was making about her capabilities and the way other people are.  I call it a lens because, just as our glasses or contact lenses are so close to our faces we often forget they’re there, the lens we see the world through has often been around so long that we’ve come to mistake it for reality.

Jane came to me thinking her specific career ideas were unrealistic, but in fact those ideas weren’t the problem.  The problem was that she saw the whole world as a hopeless and inhospitable place.  With this worldview, of course nothing seemed possible to her.

In becoming aware of the lens she was using to see the world, Jane had a reaction I’ve seen in several other people—she started taking it less seriously.  She also realized she might even be resourceful enough to make her career ideas work out, and she’s been pursuing a new direction.

It seems that, just by becoming conscious of the assumptions we’ve been making about life that have limited us, we can start letting go of them and opening ourselves to new possibilities.  Awareness is the first and, I think, the most important step in personal growth.

Locating Your Lens
 
How do we become aware of the deep-seated ideas about the world that are holding us back?  I’ll share an exercise I use to help people think about this issue. 

To do this, take a moment and think about a task you don’t believe you can accomplish.  Maybe, for example, you have a business idea you’d like to pursue but it sounds too tough to pull off, or you’re interested in taking an aerobics class but you don’t think you have the time or energy.

Now, try completing this sentence:  “I can’t do it because the world is ________________.”  Perhaps, for instance, the world is uncaring, stingy, dangerous, stupid, or something else.  Say whatever comes to mind, without censoring or judging what you think of.

Spending a little while playing with this exercise, I’ve found, can help people get in touch with deep-rooted beliefs that influence their decisions and the results they’re getting all over their lives.  When they notice and let go of these beliefs, amazing new possibilities seem to suddenly open up.

Link Love:  Evita Ochel runs a beautifully designed series of sites featuring her photography, writing, book reviews, wellness information and more.  I was honored to be interviewed by her recently about my personal journey and future plans.

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The interview is about bringing mindfulness practice into your work, finding your true calling in your career, my Career Satisfaction From Within Audio Course, and my upcoming projects.  I hope you enjoy it!

Download the Interview Here (27 mins.; MP3 file; right-click and select “Save As” to download)

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Much has been written about the importance of finding work that not only supports you financially but also deeply moves you.  Many people react to this kind of advice by thinking something like “well, it’s nice that you can do something you’re passionate about, but I’m focused on trying to survive right now.”  Presumably they figure that, once things are more financially stable for them, doing work that feels meaningful can finally become a priority.  Or maybe they’ve grown too cynical to believe it’s even possible for them to enjoy working.

Doing something we’re genuinely interested in, of course, isn’t the only thing we tend to put off until we find the financial security we’re looking for.  Many of us also put off taking our intimate relationships and outside pursuits as deeply as we’d like, hoping one day we’ll feel secure enough to go for what we want.  The trouble is that, for many of us, the sense of security we crave never seems to arrive.  For many of us, no matter what we achieve in terms of money and material rewards, a nagging fear that it could all disappear tomorrow lurks in the background.

We tend to assume that the sense of stability we’re seeking will come if we just work a little harder or longer.  But is this true?  I’ve known many wealthy people who, despite their material success, seem trapped in “survival mode,” fearing they’ll make a mistake and the abundance in their lives will dry up tomorrow.  And of course, there are more public examples of famous actors, like Johnny Depp and Jennifer Lopez, who have, surprisingly (at least to me), been concerned that their careers won’t last.

What this suggests to me is that money won’t give us the lasting feeling of security many of us are chasing.  Instead, I think it has more to do with our view of the universe.  That is, do we see it as a basically safe place, where we’ll probably come out okay if we take some risks and even make a few mistakes?  Or do we see the universe as unforgiving and hostile, likely to punish or destroy us for even a minor slipup?  If we hold the second view, it’s not surprising that, no matter how secure our job seems, and how much money we have, that fear that “everything’s going to fall apart” keeps its hold on us.

If the degree of security we feel really depends on how we see the universe, how can we shift our perspective to develop the feeling of safety we want?  In working with clients, I see it as one of my roles to help them cultivate what A.H. Almaas calls a sense of “basic trust,” or a “confidence in the goodness of the universe.”  Here are three approaches to developing a more trusting perspective on life that I’ve found useful:

1. Let Go Of The Idea That “Insecurity Equals Success.”  Many of us have spent our lives believing, consciously or otherwise, something like this:  the more afraid I am of failing, the more successful I’m likely to be.  We tend to assume that anxiety about running out of money or not achieving the status we want in our careers will keep us motivated.  If we weren’t so afraid, after all, we’d have no reason to get out of bed or off the couch.

First, notice that this way of thinking puts you on a treadmill you can’t get off.  If you really have to stay fearful to stay motivated, you can never allow yourself to relax and let go of your anxiety, because if you did, you’d lose your will to go on.  Also, notice that this mindset can actually harm your productivity.  When you’re constantly worried about your career security or performance, the time and energy you spend tossing and turning at night, endlessly second-guessing the work you produce, and so on don’t contribute much to advancing your career.

Most importantly, if you recognize that you’ve been thinking this way, just consider for a moment the possibility that sources of motivation other than fear exist.  There are things you can enjoy doing so much, and feel so deeply moved by, that you don’t even think about the money, material rewards, or whatever else you’re earning when you do them.  In other words, you can enjoy the process of doing those things without even thinking about the end product you’re creating.

Take the activities in your life you see as “play,” for instance.  Suppose you enjoy running.  Running is obviously a great way to stay healthy, but while you’re running you don’t need to focus your mind on the product—good health—to like doing it.  You can enjoy the pure process of it, without giving any thought to the results you’re getting.  Once you see this is possible, the next step is to find something you enjoy the process of doing—whether it’s fishing, computer programming, dog training or something else—and incorporating that into the work you do.

2. Face The Possibility Of Failure.  Although we all seem to be afraid of failing in our careers and elsewhere, many of us never seriously consider what “failure” really means to us, and what we’d do to pick ourselves back up again if we did fail.  When we take a hard look at these issues, we often find that the risk of failure no longer seems so terrifying.

I invite you to honestly ask yourself:  what’s your definition of failure?  Would it mean losing your job?  Getting negative comments from the boss on a project?  Not meeting your sales targets?  Once you have an answer in mind, give some thought to what you’d do if that worst-case scenario came true.  Would you find another job or career?  Sell a few of your possessions?  Take some time off and write a book?

Most of us are unwilling to seriously consider what we’d do if we “failed,” because even thinking about that feels too scary—it’s almost as if we’d die if the situation we’re imagining came about.  But when we actually contemplate how we’d handle a “failure,” and begin coming up with fallback plans, we often discover a strength and resourcefulness in ourselves we didn’t know we had.  In fact, we’d probably manage to survive and even thrive in the face of setbacks.

When we recognize we’re capable of dealing with most of the challenges we may face in our work, a peace and focus set in as we go through our normal routine.  The risks we thought were too frightening to take, the conversations we thought were too difficult to have, and so on start to feel more manageable, and the success we’re looking for starts to feel more available.

3. Notice How The Fear Of Failure Feels.  Ultimately, the worry that things will “fall apart,” in your career or elsewhere, is just a sensation you experience somewhere in your body—for many people, it’s the feeling of some part of their bodies tensing up.  Like a cramp or a crick in your neck, it may be uncomfortable, but it isn’t likely to seriously hurt or kill you, and in fact it tends to pass away quickly.

Take a moment, the next time you’re feeling anxiety about your career, financial security, or something similar, to observe how that fear manifests in your body.  What sensations let you know you’re feeling afraid?

When you simply start to notice how anxiety about failure feels for you, your relationship with that sensation begins to change.  Many of us hold back from pursuing our most deep-seated goals—whether it’s the business we’re interested in starting, the screenplay we’d like to write, the relationship we’d like to have, and so on—to avoid experiencing this fear.  But when we realize that the emotion of fear is actually a quickly passing bunch of sensations in our bodies, it ceases to look so threatening.

When we perceive our anxiety about failure for what it really is, the universe starts to look like a less hostile and more welcoming place to exist.  And we come to see that the feeling of security we’ve been looking for can actually be found within ourselves.

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You can download the MP3 file by right-clicking on the link below and selecting “Save Target As.”

Chapter 5, Exercise 3 – Transcending Your Anxiety Scenarios

In other news, I wanted to point out two other special offers related to my audio program.  First, I’m offering affiliates who sell the program a 30% commission from sales to buyers who visit from their websites.  Second, if you’re a blogger and you’d be interested in reviewing the course, please contact me — I’m planning to provide free copies to bloggers who review the program.

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In Part One of this article, I talked about the anxieties and limiting beliefs that tend to get in the way of lawyers interested in a career transition.  In this article, I’m going to describe the specific strategies I and others have used to exit legal careers in a way that has had us both survive and thrive.  Before I start my list, bear in mind that addressing the beliefs that tend to prevent us from creating change in our lives is just as important as, or more important than, the specific bullet points in our plans for a career transition.

For example, if you’re identified with the prestige of your law career, and would see yourself as a “loser” if you entered a field that didn’t require a graduate degree, no amount of advice about financially preparing for a transition is going to have you feel comfortable with making one.  To take the steps I discuss below, I had to deeply believe in myself and my business ideas, and be able to continue respecting myself even if things didn’t go exactly as I wanted.

With that in mind, here are four of the key actions I, and other ex-lawyers I know, have taken in making successful transitions out of the law.

1. Start thinking long-term about your finances.  I don’t need to tell you that law can be a stressful profession, and that many attorneys see constantly acquiring more stuff as the only way to make their jobs livable.  Although we’re generally a stuff-obsessed society, lawyers can become particularly addicted to constantly upgrading their cars, remodeling their houses, souping up their stereo systems, and so on.  Legal employers encourage attorneys to develop this habit, in the hope that their employees will accumulate debt and thus shackle themselves to their jobs with “golden handcuffs.”

I’m assuming that, in whatever you plan to do after you leave the law, you can expect to be paid less than what you received as an attorney, at least in the short term.  Thus, if you’re planning to leave the legal profession, you will probably need to start weaning yourself off any stuff addiction you may have, and saving where you can, at least a few months before your departure.

I recognize that it won’t motivate you for me to just tell you to start saving money.  I think it will help inspire you, though, to constantly keep in mind how fulfilled you’re going to be when you enter your new career with some extra money to invest in your business and your new life.  Every dollar you don’t spend on landscaping and plasma TVs today is another that can contribute to your new venture’s success in the long term.

Here are the specific steps I took to maximize the size of my financial cushion.  I rented out my condo at $2,000 per month, and moved into a studio apartment that rented for slightly over $1,000.  I sold my second computer (I really only need one), my stereo (I can play CDs and MP3s on my desktop), and my TV (I don’t watch TV anyway—having one was just a way of “looking normal,” which I’m no longer concerned about).  I canceled my magazine subscriptions and nearly anything—except my car insurance and gym membership—with a monthly recurring charge.  I stopped buying books and CDs for a few months.

You may also find encouragement in some of the things I didn’t need to do to become self-supporting once I left my law firm.  I was able to keep my car, as I paid off my car loan before I left.  I completed the last several months of a year-long coach training program, for which I was paying $500 per month.  I didn’t have to cook all of my meals—I could eat out occasionally.  Leaving my firm to start a business didn’t mean starvation or even a big drop in my quality of life—though, admittedly, I’ve never had expensive tastes.

2. Explore contract legal work.  Contract work is one way to make ends meet in the midst of a transition out of a conventional law job.  Many attorneys fear working on a part-time or contract basis—either because it’s considered less prestigious than working in a firm or corporation, or because they have nightmare visions of reviewing documents sixteen hours a day in a warehouse with hundreds of embittered out-of-work lawyers.  I did a few contract projects to pay the bills after I left my firm, and I was pleasantly surprised.  I’ll make three observations here about contract legal work that may encourage you.

First, I was surprised to learn that there are contract projects out there that allow you to work from home without setting foot in an office.  I worked on one project that solely consisted of doing legal research on the Internet and summarizing what I found.  I never met any of the people who worked with me in person.  This may sound a little isolated, but in fact it simply allowed me to interact with people on my own terms.  I could call friends or go outside if I wanted, and I didn’t have to explain myself to a supervisor.

Second, as I alluded to, not all contract work consists of reviewing documents.  As I mentioned, one type of contract work I did involved research and writing.  I know several other lawyers who previously worked at firms and now draft agreements or motion papers for other attorneys on a contract basis.  Some have even gone to court and argued motions and attended conferences.  So don’t be discouraged from making a transition out of fear that you’ll have to do document review to make ends meet.

Third, despite what I said in my second point, I have worked on document review projects, and they really aren’t as bad as some make them out to be.  At first, I imagined that, as a “temp,” I’d be treated rudely and condescendingly, I’d be on call 24-7 to meet my temporary employer’s review needs, and I would have no access to the Internet outside of the web-based document review software.

None of these proved to be true.  Everyone, including the partners at the firms I worked at, was decent to me, I worked regular, predictable hours (with optional overtime), and I was allowed to check my business e-mail and such on the computers I used.  Granted, document review probably isn’t anyone’s idea of ideal work, but in my experience it’s really quite tolerable.

To me, the main drawback of doing contract-based legal work is that it pays me on an hourly basis, as opposed to compensating me based on the quantity or quality of my work.  But that, for better or worse, is no different from the pay structure at most jobs, including law firms, in that most employees are paid a straight salary regardless of their performance or productivity.  (That, of course, is one of the reasons I became an entrepreneur.)

3. Leverage your legal experience.  Back in law school, many of us heard that a law degree would help us no matter what we ended up doing, and I suspect many of us doubted that advice.  However, in my experience, it’s actually true—letting others know you’ve been a lawyer can open doors in terms of finding a job and growing your business.  After all, most people know that lawyers are generally hardworking, intelligent people who pay close attention to detail.

In my own case, my legal experience has been helpful to me in finding coaching clients—some of the people I’ve worked with have been attorneys seeking a career change, and it’s comforting to them to know they’re working with someone who’s actually been through the process they’re seeking to enter.  In another project I’m working on where I’ve been seeking investors, prospective investors have told me that, in determining whether I could run a company, they felt encouraged by my experience as a lawyer.

Another great example is an attorney I knew who harbored a lifelong dream of being a professor.  What made his path a little rockier was that he was interested in becoming a philosophy professor, rather than teaching law, and he didn’t have an advanced degree in philosophy.  But on the strength of his legal credentials and publications, and a few philosophical writings he’d done, he was able to land a teaching job at a college, and eventually move into a tenure-track position.

What’s more, if you’re an attorney and you’re interested in entrepreneurship, you likely have a lot of knowledge about going into business that many first-time entrepreneurs lack, and you can probably save a substantial amount of money by using that knowledge.  For instance, if you start a business, you’ll probably be able to do at least the first draft of the related legal documents without hiring an attorney.  You’ll also be well-equipped to research the regulations that apply to your business, and avoid violating them and paying fines.

Even if you were a litigator, as I was, you’ve still probably read a heck of a lot more agreements and corporate statutes than the average person striking out on their own.  Based on my legal experience, I drafted the operating agreement and certificate of formation of a limited liability company I’m starting, the legal disclaimers for this site and my products, and the lease on a property I own.  I’ve yet to hire a lawyer for business purposes.  (I’m keeping my fingers crossed.)

Bottom line:  don’t underestimate how much your legal experience and credentials can benefit you, even if you’re transitioning into a career that on the surface doesn’t look law-related.

4. Consult your colleagues.  Some lawyers I know, particularly those looking for jobs as opposed to starting their own businesses, benefited greatly in their searches by reaching out to people at their law firms or whatever organizations they planned to transition out of.  I know a few attorneys, for instance, who wanted to go into consulting or finance, and ended up finding positions through connections at their law firms. 

I also know a few lawyers who received some friendly advice from their colleagues—sometimes from partners—that helped them start their own non-law businesses.  This advice touched on issues like which business form to use, where to incorporate, and how to find investors.

Some attorneys I know have felt reluctant to reach out to their colleagues, particularly while they were still at the firms they planned to leave.  They feared that their colleagues would get angry if they raised the possibility that they might do something else, and even that the senior lawyers in their organizations would somehow “blackball” them and make sure they didn’t succeed in the field they were interested in.

I’ve never heard of either of these scenarios happening, and I now know a number of people who have successfully transitioned out of the legal profession.  Both in my own experience and based on what I’ve heard, other lawyers tend to be supportive and sometimes provide valuable information to people who express interest in making a change.  If you’re thinking about leaving the law, your colleagues and other lawyers you know will likely be invaluable in helping you with the logistics of your transition.

I hope you’ve found these ideas helpful, and if you’re transitioning out of the law or any other field I wish you the best of luck.

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As a former attorney, I know many lawyers.  Some of them love what they do and have always wanted to do it.  However, many others I know, although they practice in many different areas of law and their circumstances vary widely, have one thing in common:  they’d rather not be attorneys.

As many attorneys will freely tell you, they’ve never harbored a burning passion for the law, and being an attorney was not their number-one career choice.  Some have even advised their children against becoming lawyers.  Drafting motions and agreements, reviewing documents and writing nasty letters to adversaries were never high on their list of childhood aspirations.  Instead, they “fell into“ the legal profession.  That is, rather than consciously choosing the law, they “ended up in it“ through inertia or indecision.  (Vulnerable share:  this is what I did.)

How did this happen?  The reasons vary, but a few show up repeatedly.  The one I hear most often from attorneys is that they didn’t know what to do at the end of their undergraduate education, and they decided to put off making a decision by going to law school.  At the end of their legal education, many were saddled with debt, and the legal profession looked like the obvious way to pay it off.  And so began their law careers.

Similarly, others came out of college or university knowing they wanted to do something high-paying and prestigious, but lacking a specific direction.  All they knew was that they had some verbal facility and did well on the law boards, and that they weren’t comfortable with the risks that go with doing something more entrepreneurial.  Law promised status and a high, steady income, and so they “ended up“ in it.

Talent Doesn’t Necessarily Equal Direction

Another common characteristic of many lawyers I know is that they’re bright and highly motivated people.  How is it, then, that such people “fell into“ the legal profession, as opposed to choosing a career they were genuinely interested in and passionate about?  Wouldn’t we expect such ambitious and talented individuals to take conscious control of their lives?

I’ve pondered this question for a long time, and discussed it with many current and former lawyers.  What I’ve come to believe is that many attorneys “ended up“ in the legal profession, and remain there today, out of a sense of shame.  Although they considered alternative careers that sounded more inspiring, they decided, for one reason or another, that they weren’t good enough, or that they didn’t deserve, to pursue their true calling.  And the shame I’m talking about is also what’s keeping many attorneys from seriously considering a career transition.

My sense is that many lawyers’ decision (or non-decision) to “fall into“ the law, and their reluctance to try something new, are often rooted in beliefs they’ve harbored about themselves and the world since they were very young.  In my experience coaching people — many of whom have been attorneys — through making transitions, becoming aware of the ideas that are driving our choices, in our careers and elsewhere, is the most important step toward creating change.

Based on the many conversations I’ve had with dissatisfied lawyers about the reasons they entered their career, and the reasons they may be having trouble making a transition, I’ve come up with a list of the most common limiting beliefs attorneys often hold about themselves.  In this article, I’m going to describe, and take a critical look at, each of these.

If you’re an attorney interested in a career change, or you do something else but what I say here resonates with you, I invite you to examine these beliefs with me.  See if taking a hard look at them helps remove some of the mental obstacles that may have been blocking you from pursuing your true calling.

1.  I “owe“ it to others to be in a stable, high-paying profession.  Despite what some nonlawyers say about the legal profession’s ethics, we attorneys tend to have highly developed, and frequently rigid, ideas of right and wrong.  Our strong consciences help us zealously represent our clients, but they also tend to have us savagely criticize ourselves and hold ourselves to inflexible standards.

With this powerful conscience comes a sometimes overwhelming sense of obligation — to our parents, children, friends, and others.  We believe we deeply “owe“ the people around us — so deeply that we actually have a duty to design our careers, relationships and other important aspects of our lives to serve their wants.  Perhaps, for example, we owe it to our parents to take a career path they’ll be proud of, or at least one they won’t feel embarrassed by.  Maybe we owe it to our families to enter a low-risk and high-paying career, to ensure that we’ll always provide them with enough.  And so on.

If you’re a lawyer, and you recognize that you entered the law out of a sense of obligation to someone, I’m not going to try to insist or prove that you don’t owe anyone anything.  I do think it would be useful, however, to try on another perspective for a moment.  Consider the possibility that, if you dislike what you do for a living, others around you are feeling the impact of your dissatisfaction, whether you want them to or not.

This may be happening in obvious ways — perhaps you’re coming home to your family with a hair-trigger temper because of your dissatisfaction with your career, or you’re finding yourself too exhausted to spend any quality time with them.  Or perhaps the impact is subtler — maybe there’s a distance between you and your family, or others in your life, that they feel but can’t quite explain.

Now, try on the idea that, when you do something you feel passionate about, the fulfillment you experience “rubs off“ on those around you as well.  Your family and friends’ empathic sensibilities can pick up on your joy as well as your pain.  In fact, you’ve probably noticed that the mood you’re in when you’ve had a great day at work can subtly uplift even strangers you pass on the street.

Perhaps your reaction to what I’ve said is that it would be impossible for you to support yourself, or your spouse or children, doing anything but law.  If you hold this view, I invite you to simply take a hard look at it, and honestly ask yourself whether someone with your talent and motivation would really be unable to succeed doing anything else.

2.  I don’t know what I want to do.  A number of lawyers have come to me claiming they’re still doing law because they don’t know what they really want in their careers.  Interestingly, however, I often find this isn’t actually true.  What’s really going on is that they’ve learned to say they don’t know because they’re ashamed to admit their desires.  They chose law because it was a “safe,“ conventional path no one would criticize them for taking.

One of my functions as a coach is to provide a nonjudgmental environment for people to discuss what they actually want in their lives.  When I’m successful at assuring a client I won’t ridicule or shame them for telling me what they’re passionate about, they usually become willing to drop the “I don’t know“ facade and open up about what they truly desire.  It just takes a little time before they can trust me enough to confide in me.

In providing this kind of environment, I’m helping them overcome the conditioning that had them “fall into“ their present careers.  Many of us grew up being told that our dreams were selfish or silly, that we didn’t have the talent to do what we wanted, or that what we wanted didn’t matter.  Not surprisingly, many of us adapted to this kind of situation by choosing never to talk about, or pursue, what we desired.

When we finally find someone — whether it’s a therapist or coach, or just a close friend — who will listen without judgment to what we really want, we often find our calling naturally revealing itself to us without effort.  We discover, as I put it in my audio program, that “it’s okay to have wants.”

3.  I have nothing special to contribute.  Although some lawyers I’ve spoken to do know what they really want in their careers, they’re convinced that they can’t pursue their true calling because they have nothing unique or valuable to bring to the field that interests them.  Several attorneys who’d prefer to be writers, for instance, have told me they abandoned the idea because “there are so many other writers out there.“  If they couldn’t make a unique contribution doing what they prefer, they concluded, they might as well do a job with decent pay.

One thing I often notice about people who tell me they have “nothing special to contribute” to some field is that they haven’t really tried.  The attorneys who told me they’d rather be writers, for example, had never actually tried writing professionally (except, of course, for drafting agreements and legal papers).  If this objection comes up for you, I’d recommend at least trying out what you want on a part-time basis, or recreationally, to get an idea of the quality of work you can actually produce.  Better yet, commit to another person — whether it’s a coach, friend or family member — to explore your outside interests, and request that they hold you to that commitment.

But more importantly, really consider these questions:  why does everything you do need to be unique and special?  Why do you hold yourself to this standard?  What do you fear would happen if you didn’t produce something groundbreaking in your work?  Would people ridicule you, or get angry, or harm you in some way?  Taking a serious look at these questions often loosens the grip this “need to be special” has on you.

I’ve worked with several people who felt reluctant to make a career transition because they doubted their ability to make a “unique contribution.”  In almost every case, when they closely examine their belief that every piece of work they produce must be revolutionary and cutting-edge, they start taking it less seriously.  If the need to “be special” is holding you back from pursuing your goals, I invite you to do the same kind of self-examination.

4. Marketing my goods or services would be sleazy.  I’ve known a number of attorneys who were interested in doing something more entrepreneurial, ranging from starting their own businesses making quilts to selling financial products on commission.  However, another common feature of lawyers’ mindset seems to be a disdain for selling things.  To many attorneys, there is something crass, manipulative or pedestrian about promoting products or services.  Here’s another vulnerable confession:  I even felt a little anxiety as I was designing this site’s marketing, for the same reasons.  “Oh, how low I’ve fallen,” I despaired for a moment.  “I’m hawking my wares on the Internet.”

The number of legal restrictions on lawyer advertising that exist everywhere is a testament to this belief’s power.  Similarly, I often hear lawyers belittling successful entrepreneurs, wondering how people with neither law degrees nor academic honors (or, like Bill Gates, not even college diplomas!) could make more money than most senior law firm partners.  And don’t get attorneys started on celebrities who became millionaires simply by looking attractive, without ever drafting a single Motion for Summary Judgment or Preferred Stock Purchase Agreement.

Despite this prevailing attitude, I think most attorneys would acknowledge that it’s at least okay to truthfully market a service or product that’s actually of decent quality.  If you think you can start your own business and create something worthwhile — and I suspect that someone with your talents and intelligence can do so — there’s nothing sleazy about telling people about it.

More importantly, if you find yourself limited by this attitude, consider this question:  do you really believe self-promotion is shameful, or is that just something you tell yourself to excuse the choices you’ve made?  If you abandoned your dream of entrepreneurship for law or some other more “stable” career path, it’s comforting to believe you did that to avoid manipulating others or demeaning yourself.  But can you honestly accept that belief?

5. Everything will be okay when I’m wealthier.  Some attorneys I know, although they’re unsatisfied with their careers right now, believe their quality of life will significantly improve once they start making more money.  This is particularly true for associates at large law firms who believe they have a decent shot at “making partner” within a few years.  The reasons lawyers hold this belief vary.  Some, for instance, think more money will give them access to enough material rewards that they’ll become satisfied with their lives.  Others plan to retire early, and spend the rest of their lives with their families financially free.

Unfortunately, in my experience, even when attorneys meet their financial goals, they find themselves saddled with the same sense of emptiness that plagued them when they started out.  What’s more, money does little to heal the rifts in their personal relationships.  In the end, no matter how much money they make, how many junior people they get to supervise, and how many important people they get to hobnob with, wealth and status simply don’t seem to “make everything okay.”

It took me a long time to finally acknowledge that no material reward can really fill the emptiness many of us — lawyers or otherwise — experience within ourselves.  That this was hard for me to see is no surprise, since — as with many other attorneys — the reason I entered my legal career was ultimately to garner enough money and prestige to feel adequate. The only way we can come to terms with this emptiness, or sense of lack, is to be willing to silently sit with it and fully experience it, rather than running or trying to distract ourselves from it.

I offer several guided meditations for this purpose in my book and audio program, but just sitting alone in silence can help us get intimate with and ultimately transcend the feeling of inadequacy that may be nagging us in the background.

(This is Part One of a two-part series.  In Part Two, I’m going to dive into the practicalities of transitioning out of the legal profession, based on my own experiences and those of other ex-lawyers I know.)

Related posts:

1. Career Transitions For Lawyers (Part Two) (This is Part Two of a two-part series on transitioning...
2. Do You Have The “Personality” For The Career You Want? Personality tests are becoming increasingly popular among people starting out...
3. Don’t Wait To Do Your “Real Work,” Part II: Finding Real Security (This is the second part of a series I began...

One of our biggest sources of disappointment is the way we tend to assume that, if we reach a certain place in our lives, we’ll live happily ever after.  It’s as if our lives are a kind of race, and once we finish the race we can spend the rest of our lives celebrating our victory, free of conflict and stress.  The expression “finish rich,” which is used in a lot of financial self-help literature, is a good example of this mindset—the implication being that suffering right now is okay as long as we retire wealthy.

Different events represent this mythical “finish line” to different people.  To some, getting married or meeting the ideal partner will end their search for lifelong fulfillment.  To others, it’s earning enough money to spend the rest of one’s days in a beachfront house.  To still others, it’s getting a graduate degree that allows them to enter a lucrative profession like law or medicine.

Why This Mindset Has Us Suffer

Unfortunately, as many of us have learned firsthand, there simply is no finish line.  No event in our lives seems capable of making us permanently happy.  No matter how much money we earn, how wonderful our relationship seems, and so on, anxiety and despair creep back into our awareness sooner or later.  The dream job starts to feel boring and repetitive, the dream relationship goes stale, we start taking that expensive house or car for granted, and so on.

When a key event happens in our lives but leaves us disappointed, we tend to assume we just need to cross another, different “finish line” to be happy.  The wealthy people I know whose homes are in a constant state of disrepair due to landscaping and remodeling come to mind.  When one extra wing on their houses doesn’t satisfy them, they assume they just need another, and when that doesn’t work they decide they need a kidney-shaped pool instead of an oval one.  And then they get annoyed that their yards are constantly full of trucks and bulldozers.

This mentality represents the perspective most of us have on our lives, if on a less luxurious scale.  But if we really want lasting satisfaction, I think, we have to start considering other possibilities.

I don’t know of a way to prevent ourselves from ever feeling scared, angry, or sad.  But I do think we can experience more peace and focus in our lives with a simple shift in perspective.  When we’re able to let go of the sense that some future event can make us satisfied or whole―that enough money, fame, sex or whatever we crave can complete us―suddenly happiness becomes more accessible.

We could also see this new perspective as a recognition that our sense that we’re empty or incomplete is an illusion.  Because we are already whole, we don’t need some future person, thing or event to complete us or make us happy.  Simply releasing the false belief that we aren’t whole, rather than doing or acquiring anything in the world, can help us achieve the peace we’re seeking.  As Dr. Joan Borysenko writes in Minding The Body, Mending The Mind, “the message that underlies healing is simple yet radical:  We are already whole . . . . Underneath our fears and worries, unaffected by the many layers of our conditioning and actions, is a peaceful core.”

Interestingly enough, when we release the idea that there’s a void in us that needs to be filled, we become more able to attract what we want into our lives.  As I discuss in my book, for example, when we rely on our careers to give us a sense of wholeness, we’re constantly anxious about something going wrong at work.  This mentality has us do things like endlessly pore over documents we create, even though rationally we know they’re okay, and wake up at 3:00 in the morning terrified that the bonus won’t be big enough this year.  But when we release this anxiety, we can give each project no more than the amount of time it’s actually due, and become more productive and well-rested.

Bringing Our Attention Into The Present

How do we stop relying on the future to bring us happiness, and gain more appreciation for where we are now?  There are many ways to do this, but I’d generally recommend cultivating awareness of what’s going on within and around us in each moment.  This means becoming more aware, both of what we’re experiencing on the inside—the emotions and sensations we’re feeling in our bodies—and what’s happening in our surroundings—the sounds we may hear outside the window, how our keyboards feel when we touch them, or how warm or cool the temperature in the room is.

One particularly effective method for developing this kind of awareness is to bring our attention to our breathing.  Our awareness of our breathing often falls away when we become absorbed in fretting over or yearning for the future.  Simply noticing how each breath feels can help us return our attention to this moment and reconnect with our ability to enjoy living.  As Dr. Richard Moss writes in The Mandala Of Being, “to return to our breathing is to bring our attention back to the present.”

When our minds are on the future, and the events that will supposedly bring us satisfaction, we lose awareness of what we’re experiencing now.  And when we aren’t experiencing what’s going on around us, we can’t appreciate or enjoy it.  Bringing our attention to this moment, by focusing on what we’re feeling and perceiving, helps restore our access to our passion for what we do.  As psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi writes in Flow: The Psychology Of Optimal Experience, “only direct control of experience, the ability to derive moment-by-moment enjoyment from everything we do, can overcome the obstacles to fulfillment.”

It’s sometimes said this is one reason why “extreme sports” like rock climbing and skydiving are so exciting.  Climbing a mountain, for instance, forces you to hold your attention on what’s going on around you in the present.  If you start daydreaming about what the top of the mountain will look like, you may make a dangerous mistake.  And because your awareness must stay in this moment while you’re climbing, you have access to your natural joy and aliveness in a way you may not in daily life.

When we’re able to keep our attention focused in the present, and let go of our tendency to look to the future to satisfy us, life takes on an exciting and fulfilling quality we may not have experienced before.  Even our normal routines, and mundane activities like cleaning and organizing our offices, can become interesting and pleasurable.  Dropping the idea of a “finish line,” and seeing each step in the “race” we run in life as meaningful, is a great way to reconnect with the joy of living.

Related posts:

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As I said in Part One of this review, Parachute has much to recommend it in terms of the inspiring and spiritual perspective Bolles offers on the job hunt and career satisfaction.  As with any work, however, there are places where Parachute has room to grow, and I’ll talk about three of them here.

1. Canned Interview Strategies.  Bolles provides a long list of tips and tricks for succeeding in job interviews.  Examples include the “two-minute rule,” which means you should avoid spending more than two minutes responding to an interviewer’s question, to make sure they don’t think you’re self-indulgent; the “50-50 rule,” which means that, for the same reason, you should ensure that you and the interviewer talk for roughly equal amounts of time; and various forms of confident body language, such as strong eye contact.

Bolles says some of these strategies are supported by studies showing that people who use the suggested behaviors are more likely to be hired.  Even assuming these studies actually prove what Bolles says, one question that remains is whether people who intentionally make an effort to do these behaviors succeed in interviews.  In other words, it’s one thing to say that people who don’t talk for more than two minutes per answer tend to get the job—it’s another to suggest that people who consciously worry about the amount of time they spend talking are more likely to get hired.

In my experience, people who go through job interviews saying planned lines and using rehearsed body language are likely to be, and give the impression of being, anxious.  If you’ve ever tried to use rehearsed lines or body language in any setting—and many of us have in some context, whether at a social event or at work—you’ve probably noticed it takes a lot of effort.  What’s more, if your attention is on trying to get the techniques “right,” it’s hard to keep your mind on what the other person is saying.

Recall those moments, for example, where you’ve been in a conversation and you’ve been frantically trying to plan what to say next.  I’ll bet you were not only nervous, but you also had trouble listening to the other person’s words.  This probably isn’t the best mindset for coming across as confident and professional in an interview.

A Novel Idea: Real Interest In The Job You’re Applying For

What do I propose instead as an approach to interviewing?  Let’s start by looking at the impression the rehearsed language and movements Bolles recommends are supposed to create.  Essentially, they’re intended to make us look enthusiastic about and interested in the job we’re looking for, and confident but not arrogant.

So here’s a crazy new idea that isn’t covered in most job-hunting books:  what if we applied for jobs we were really enthusiastic about, and we actually became more sure of ourselves?  If we genuinely had the characteristics interviewers are looking for, we wouldn’t have to worry so much about looking like we did.

But how do we cultivate these qualities?  There isn’t space for a comprehensive discussion here, but I’ll talk briefly about enthusiasm for the job you’re seeking.  On one level, you can ensure that you’re engaged during a job interview by actually being interested in the work you’re trying to get hired to do.  If you’re genuinely intrigued by or passionate about the job you’re interviewing for, those qualities are likely to naturally show up in what you say and do.

This may sound obvious, but many of us don’t actually focus on it.  Instead, our attention is usually on the perks of the job we’re seeking—how much it pays, how prestigious it’ll sound to other people, and so on—rather than the actual work the job entails.  Or, we’re so concerned for our survival that we don’t feel we have the “luxury” of paying attention to our interests.  As Bolles himself recognizes, if we actually take time to think about the work we’d prefer to do, we can much more easily guide ourselves toward employers we’re interested in working for, or businesses we’re interested in starting.

Perhaps you find yourself feeling angry or resistant when you read this, and you’re having thoughts like “that just isn’t realistic for me.  I’m focused on paying my bills, not ‘pursuing my dreams’ or ‘being myself’.”  If a reaction like this arises in you, notice any subtle feelings of superiority or righteousness you get from seeing yourself as constantly struggling to survive.

For instance, do you see yourself as responsible or practical because you aren’t following your dreams?  Do you see it as “selfish” to go for what you want in life, and view yourself as a noble martyr because you don’t?  Asking these kinds of questions can help you make valuable discoveries about how you may be limiting yourself in your career and elsewhere.

On a deeper level, as I discussed in Part One of this review, sometimes we have trouble getting excited about a job we’re seeking because our unconscious defense mechanisms against intense feeling stop us from experiencing enthusiasm and aliveness in any area of our lives.  As I noted, the key to letting go of these barriers against intense emotion is to develop awareness that we have them, by carefully observing how we move and tense up our bodies when strong sensations arise inside us.

2. Transcending Shame.  The formula for career satisfaction Bolles presents is, essentially, find out what you love to do using the self-inquiry exercises Bolles describes, then use Bolles’ job hunting techniques to pursue your passion.  As I’ve said, the information Bolles offers on both these subjects is wide-ranging and thorough.  However, like most career advice out there, Bolles’ formula misses a critical stumbling block for many of us:  the fear and shame that hold us back from doing what we know we must do to succeed.

This is consistently the issue that needs, and receives, the most attention in the coaching I do.  In my experience, the main obstacle people face in finding career satisfaction actually isn’t not knowing what they want.  They often come to me claiming they don’t know, but often we quickly discover that isn’t true.  In fact, they’ve fallen into the habit of telling people they don’t know what they want, and perhaps even convinced themselves they don’t know, because they’ve learned, for one reason or another, to feel ashamed of their desires.

The reasons we develop this sort of shame are varied, but they often stem from early in our lives.  Perhaps, for example, our caregivers told us we were selfish and asked for too much, said our dreams were unrealistic or stupid, criticized us and told us we’d never amount to anything, or something else.  These experiences convinced us it’s unsafe to express and pursue our wants, and we learned that it’s easier to just say we’re not sure.

One of my roles as a coach is to provide a safe, nonjudgmental environment for people to say what they want out of their careers, and when I do this people often surprise themselves with how much they actually know about their true calling.  I often recommend to people having trouble finding career direction, even if they aren’t working professionally with a coach or someone else to reconnect with their desires, to simply find someone who will listen to them without judgment, and reveal their career goals.

I invite you to try this if you’re looking to make a career transition, or just seeking more satisfaction from what you do.  Find a confidant you can trust not to criticize your ideas, and simply tell them what you want out of your career—even if you only have a vague idea of what that is going into the conversation.  When you have the firsthand experience of someone listening to your desires without shaming or judging you, you’ll likely start feeling safer expressing what you want and even seeking it in the world.

When You Think You “Can’t Do It”

We might call the type of shame that prevents us from expressing our wants the sense that “it’s not okay to want.”  Unfortunately, even when we overcome this variety of shame, another limiting belief often continues to stand in our way—the conviction that “I can’t do it.”  We’re all experts at coming up with reasons why it’s just not realistic to pursue our goals.  Maybe we’re not smart or motivated enough, we’re too young or too old, there’s too much competition, people will ridicule our decision, or something else.

These reasons usually sound so logical and compelling to us that we just give up and settle for less in our careers and other areas of our lives.  In my experience, however, these reasons lose their power over us when we become willing to take a look at what’s really prompting us to come up with all these obstacles to achieving our goals.

For example, the next time you find yourself devising all kinds of creative reasons why you can’t accomplish something, notice how your body feels when you’re in this “hopeless mode.”  In other words, what kinds of sensations do you experience when you’re convinced that you can’t do something—is it a sinking feeling in your chest, a tightness in your shoulders, a shortness of breath, or something else?

Once you understand the sensations that signal you to feel helpless, consider the possibility that you’ve chosen to label those feelings as a sign that you can’t succeed.  You’ve convinced yourself that, when your body feels a certain way, that means you can’t do what you want to do.  What this means is that you can choose to remove the label you’ve put on the feeling, and just experience it as a sensation that comes up in your body—like an itch or the urge to sneeze, for instance—and nothing more.

Training yourself to remove the labels from the emotional energies that arise in you can take some work, but the freedom this can give you in your career and other areas of your life is remarkable.  When you take control of how you interpret the feelings in your body, many of the limitations you used to face seem to dissolve.

3. Emphasis On Jobs.  As I’ve said, what I appreciate most about Parachute is its focus, particularly in the last chapter, on pursuing a career path that’s congruent with what you see as your overall purpose in life, rather than being (as Bolles puts it) a “job beggar” who’s only interested in paying the rent and keeping busy during the weekdays.  Seeing as how this is Bolles’ perspective, it’s surprising to me that most of Parachute is specifically devoted to techniques for getting a job—to finding an employer to work for instead of striking out on your own.

Bolles does offer one chapter on starting your own business and self-employment, but his recommendations are more about how to transition out of your job than the logistics and inspiration needed for entrepreneurship.  This may be simply for marketing reasons, as the reality is that most people automatically look for jobs when they finish school or make a career change.  However, as Bolles wants to inspire us to find more direction and satisfaction in our careers, I found myself wanting to hear more from him about seeing that there are alternatives to the conventional wisdom.

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with working a 9-to-5 (or 9-to-later) job.  If doing that is part of your vision for your life, more power to you.  However, it’s also true that many of us, although we dream of owning businesses, go to work for someone else anyway, either because it feels more comfortable or we doubt our abilities.  The comfort factor comes from someone else bearing the risk of profit and loss and making decisions about the business’s overall strategy, and our doubts often concern our ability to lead others and find customers.

If the idea of being an entrepreneur has never occurred to you, I encourage you to at least consider it, if only as an exercise to gain more knowledge of yourself.  Because, in our culture, we’re generally encouraged to get jobs, most of us don’t put much attention on our capacity to be leaders, or simply assume we don’t have what it takes to lead.  The same is often true of our ability to locate customers—many of us, I’ve found, simply conclude “oh, I could never do that” without giving the issue serious thought.

In my experience, when I encourage someone I’m working with to imagine what it would be like to start their own business, they often become suddenly aware of talents and abilities they’d forgotten they possessed.  No matter what working environment we end up in, recognizing our leadership skills can only help us find career fulfillment and success.

Related posts:

1. Book Review: What Color Is Your Parachute?, by Richard Nelson Bolles (Part One) For a little departure today, I’m going to offer my...
2. Career Transitions For Lawyers (Part Two) (This is Part Two of a two-part series on transitioning...
3. Career Transitions For Lawyers (Part One) (This is Part One of a two-part series.  Click here...