Mark: The advice 'follow your passion' might be the worst career advice you'll ever get. It's a myth that often leads to frustration and a sense of failure. Michelle: Oh, that's a bold start. You're telling me my dream of becoming a professional gelato taster is doomed? Because my passion for that is very, very real. Mark: Your passion might be real, but the idea that you just follow it and success magically appears is the problem. Today, we're exploring a better, more realistic way: finding the work that finds you, often in the wreckage of your original plans. Michelle: I'm intrigued. This sounds less like a motivational poster and more like real life. What's our guide for this journey into the wreckage? Mark: It’s the central, provocative idea in Jeff Goins's bestselling book, The Art of Work: A Proven Path to Discovering What You Were Meant to Do. Michelle: Right, and Goins is an interesting messenger for this. He wasn't some guru from day one. He actually left a stable marketing director job at a nonprofit to become a full-time writer, so he lived this messy transition himself. It's not just theory for him. Mark: Exactly. And that personal journey is what makes the book feel so authentic. It’s less of a 'how-to' manual and more of a roadmap for a journey he's already taken. And he kicks this off by tackling the biggest myth of all: the idea that your calling arrives like a lightning bolt.

Michelle: Okay, I love that. The pressure to have this grand epiphany is immense. You see these stories of people who say, "I was five years old, and I just knew I had to be an astrophysicist." Meanwhile, the rest of us are just trying to figure out what to have for lunch. Mark: Precisely. Goins argues that this "you just know" narrative is not only rare, it's harmful. It makes everyone else feel like they're failing. He offers a much more liberating idea with a quote that frames the entire book: "A calling is not some carefully crafted plan. It’s what’s left when the plan goes horribly wrong." Michelle: That is so counterintuitive. We're taught to plan, to set five-year goals, to have everything mapped out. You’re saying the real magic happens when the map gets torn to shreds? Mark: That's exactly it. And he uses this incredibly powerful, and frankly heartbreaking, story to prove his point. It's about a family, the Millers, and their five-year-old son, Garrett. Michelle: Oh boy, I'm bracing myself. Mark: It’s June of 2000. They're at a T-ball game, and they notice Garrett is having trouble balancing, he can't quite place the ball on the tee. They take him to the doctor, and the diagnosis is devastating: a golf-ball-sized tumor in his brain. A medulloblastoma. Michelle: Wow. For a five-year-old. That's just… unimaginable. Mark: The prognosis was grim. A 50% chance of survival within five years. The surgery to remove the tumor left him blind, mute, and paralyzed. His father, Eric, said their whole world just fell apart. The plan they had for their son, for their family—it was gone. Michelle: I can't even begin to imagine the despair. What do you even do in that situation? Mark: Well, this is where the story pivots. Eric, the father, had this profound realization. He said, "We needed to be living life all of the time, because none of us are guaranteed that we’re going to be around an hour or two from now." It was a complete shift in perspective. They stopped focusing on what Garrett couldn't do and started focusing on what he could. Michelle: A shift from limitations to possibilities. Mark: Exactly. One day, Eric saw a story about a blind tandem cyclist named Matt King. He showed it to Garrett, who had been an active kid before the cancer. And this little spark ignited. Garrett, who was still re-learning how to walk and talk, decided he wanted to ride a bike again. Michelle: That's incredible. How did he even start? Mark: With his mom holding the back of his bike, wobbling down the driveway. Then, his dad got a tandem bike, and they started riding together. And on June 24, 2001, exactly one year to the day after his surgery, six-year-old Garrett Rush-Miller, blind and still recovering, completed his first triathlon with his dad. Michelle: Hold on. A triathlon? That's unbelievable. He went from being paralyzed to completing a triathlon in a year? Mark: Yes. And he didn't stop. He went on to compete in more than a dozen of them. He climbed Machu Picchu. He became an Eagle Scout. His calling wasn't something he planned. It was born from the absolute worst thing that could have happened. It was what was left when the plan went wrong. Michelle: That's an incredible story, but it's also incredibly extreme. Does this principle apply to those of us who aren't facing a life-or-death crisis? How do we find our calling in the 'ordinary' chaos of life, like getting laid off or realizing you hate the major you chose? Mark: That's the key question, and Goins argues it absolutely does. The scale might be different, but the principle is the same. He tells another, much smaller story about Walt Disney. As a teenager, Disney got a nasty foot injury from a horseshoe nail and was bedridden for two weeks. It was that forced pause, that disruption to his normal life, that gave him the time to reflect and decide he wanted to become a cartoonist. The "failure" of his health led to the "discovery" of his path. Michelle: So it’s about paying attention during those moments of disruption, big or small. Mark: Yes. It’s about "listening to your life," as Goins puts it. And this isn't some niche problem. A global poll he cites found that 87 percent of workers feel disconnected from their jobs. Most people are wandering, waiting for that lightning bolt. Goins is saying, "Stop waiting. Look at the detours. Look at the things that didn't work out. The clues to your calling are hidden in there." Michelle: It’s a much more hopeful way to look at what feels like failure. It’s not a dead end; it’s a signpost. Mark: A signpost pointing you toward something you might not have even considered. And that leads to the next big idea. If the path is messy and not a single, clear thing... then what does the destination even look like? I think a lot of us feel like we have too many interests, not one single 'calling.' We're a little bit of this, a little bit of that.

Michelle: Yes! I completely relate to that. The "jack-of-all-trades, master of none" anxiety is real. You feel like you should be specializing, going deep on one thing, but your interests are all over the place. It feels like a weakness. Mark: Goins reframes it as a superpower. He introduces this concept called the "Portfolio Life." The idea is that your calling isn't one thing. It's a collection of things. It’s a portfolio of your skills, passions, and contributions that you build over a lifetime. Michelle: That's such a relief to hear! It’s like diversifying your career identity, not putting all your eggs in one basket. It gives you permission to not have it all figured out. Mark: Exactly. And he has the perfect story for this. It's about a guy named Jody Maberry. Jody went to college for finance and marketing. He got the sensible job at a commercial bank. He was on the traditional path. Michelle: The safe path. The one your parents are proud of at dinner parties. Mark: The very same. But he was miserable. He secretly wanted more. During college, he'd taken a trip to Yellowstone National Park and it just lit him up inside. He loved the outdoors, the sense of mission. So while working at the bank, he started taking night classes to become a park ranger. Michelle: A finance guy becoming a park ranger. That's quite a pivot. Mark: A huge pivot. He eventually quit the bank and became a ranger for Washington State Parks. He loved it. He thought, "This is it. This is my calling." But then, life happened. The job required moving frequently, the hours were demanding, and it started to strain his family life. He had to make a choice. Michelle: And he chose his family. Mark: He did. He walked away from what he thought was his calling. He went back to school, got an MBA, and took a job with a construction company. On paper, it looks like he failed. He failed at finance, then he failed at being a park ranger. Michelle: It sounds like a series of false starts. A resume that makes no sense. Mark: But this is where the Portfolio Life comes in. Jody still felt that pull towards the parks. So he started a podcast on the side called 'The Park Leaders Show.' He wanted to help and mentor the next generation of park leaders. And something amazing happened. Michelle: What was that? Mark: He realized his weird, zig-zagging career was his unique advantage. His finance background helped him understand budgets. His MBA taught him management. His years as a ranger gave him credibility and stories. He combined all these seemingly unrelated pieces into something new. Today, he's a successful consultant and podcaster, using his entire portfolio of experiences to serve the community he loves. Michelle: Wow. So nothing was wasted. Every "failure" or detour became an asset in his portfolio. That’s a powerful idea. Mark: It completely changes how you view your past. That "useless" degree, that job you hated, that hobby you abandoned—they're all potential assets. Goins argues this is the future of work. He cites data suggesting that by 2030, the majority of the American workforce will be freelancers or self-employed. A portfolio life is becoming inevitable. Michelle: But how do you manage that without feeling scattered? Is there a framework for building this portfolio? Mark: There is. Goins breaks it down into four essential parts of your life's portfolio: Work, which includes paid labor; Home, which is your family and relationships; Play, activities done for pure enjoyment; and Purpose, your guiding values. A healthy calling integrates all four. It's not about work-life balance, it's about work-life integration. Michelle: And finding work within that portfolio that truly engages you. Mark: Yes, and that's where he talks about finding "flow." That sweet spot where the difficulty of a task perfectly matches your competency. It's not boring, and it's not overwhelming. It's exhilarating. Jody Maberry found his flow when he combined his business skills with his passion for parks.

Mark: So when you put these two big ideas together, a new picture of a calling emerges. The journey isn't about finding a single, perfect job. It's about embracing the messy path of awareness and failure to assemble a unique portfolio of work that is authentically you. Michelle: And it seems the real 'art' of work, then, isn't about the final product, but the process of living. It's about shifting your focus from 'What should I do?' to 'Who am I becoming?' The work is a tool for your own growth. Mark: That's the core of it. It’s not about what you achieve, but the impact you have. It's about legacy. Not a legacy you leave at the end, but one you live every day. There’s a story in the book about Stephen King that perfectly captures this. Michelle: The master of horror? How does he fit in? Mark: At the height of his success and his addiction, King had this massive oak desk that dominated his study. He saw his life as a support system for his art. His family, his health—everything was secondary to the work. Michelle: That sounds like a dark path. Mark: It was. But after he got sober, he made a symbolic change. He got rid of the huge desk and replaced it with a small, simple one in the corner. He realized his priorities had been backward. He came to a profound conclusion, which he wrote in his memoir. It’s a quote that I think sums up this entire book. Michelle: What is it? Mark: He wrote: "Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around." Michelle: Wow. That gives me chills. Your work should serve your life, not the other way around. That's a powerful thought to end on. We'd love to hear from our listeners. What's in your 'portfolio life'? What seemingly random skills have you combined into something meaningful? Share your story with the Aibrary community. Mark: We can't wait to read them.