I finally got to see the new Disney-Pixar movie the other night -- Soul. Being the giant, overgrown kid-at-heart I am, I get very excited about new Disney films as a rule, but I was extra eager to see this one. Not only does it have a Black lead and contain many references to Black culture -- something I'm happy to be seeing in more media -- but jazz music is an integral part of the film's theme, as well. I've come to love jazz, especially as I get older and increasingly excited about different kinds of music.
I liked the film very much in general. Still, I especially enjoyed its primary message about the concept of life purpose and how it addressed many common questions people have on the subject.
- What does it mean to have a life purpose?
- Is your purpose about your profession of choice or something else entirely?
- What does it really feel like to finally realize your most significant, dearest goals in life?
- Where do little pleasures and daily experiences fit into the picture?
- Is it possible not to have a purpose, and what happens if that's the case for you?
At nearly 45, I've managed to answer many of those questions for myself, but it took me a while. Joe was my favorite character, so I'd love to say I was just like him -- maybe a little misguided, but always sure of what I wanted to do with my life. I'm really the spitting image of Soul 22, though.
Like 22, I believed that I didn't have a life purpose for an extremely long time, especially when I was younger. While everyone else my age seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do with their lives, nothing seemed to resonate with me at all. I did know I enjoyed being creative -- drawing, writing, playing piano, and the like -- but there was no way to turn those things into stable livings that actually appealed to me back then. I didn't want to put on a suit and design logos for some soulless corporate entity or settle for teaching schoolchildren about the things I wanted to be doing myself. I especially disliked the idea of having to commute to an office every day.
I saw becoming a housewife someday as the closest I'd ever get to being able to live the life I wanted for myself. I didn't like or want children, nor did I particularly care for the idea of having housework be my main priority. But if I didn't have to worry about earning money, I could stay home and pursue my passions instead of having to spend my days somewhere else doing meaningless work I didn't care about. I could just spruce up the house every day, make sure there were dinners on the table every night, and spend the rest of my time learning, reading, and creating.
Back then, those were the only choices for women -- marry someone who wants you to stay home and take care of the house or get a nine-to-five somewhere doing something "practical" that you may or may not also hate. And your purpose had to be all wrapped up in one of those things. It was not to be happy or to chase your bliss in life. If whatever got you all gassed up to get out of bed in the morning wasn't the exact same thing that you did for a living, you'd damn well better pretend that it is or risk being written off as lazy, entitled, and spoiled.
The way 22's mentors and caretakers get super frustrated with her, often abusing her verbally and mentally because she doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, is very familiar. I spent my entire childhood like that, not to mention a lot of my adulthood. The funny thing is I wasn't necessarily opposed to working, just having to work outside of my home. I distinctly recall telling my mother on many occasions that I wished there were a way to work and earn money from home because I would love to do that. She'd just laugh in my face and assume that was code for wanting to lie around and watch soap operas all day.
In retrospect, I realize that -- like Soul's 22 -- I needed people to be more patient with me. I also needed my parents, teachers, and mentors to listen to me when I talked about the things that moved me in life or filled me with joy. When I spoke of really liking to be home and wanting to work for myself from home, I should have been encouraged to explore entrepreneurship or various freelancing opportunities. These were the very things I wound up doing anyway after years of searching for the right fit, and in retrospect, it should have been clear that that's the life I was cut out for. I'm a little pissed off that no one cared enough to see it. I was just a kid and shouldn't have been expected to figure such things out all by myself the way I was.
Then there was the emphasis Soul placed on the fact that work isn't all there is to life, nor is it the same thing as your purpose. Some of the scenes from the film where 22 inhabited Joe's body and was profoundly moved by various human experiences resonated strongly with me. I watched her eat her first slice of pizza, witness the leaves falling, and delight in seeing how much one of Joe's students loved playing the trombone. And I thought -- that's me, and that's what life's about to me. I couldn't believe some writing team for Disney-Pixar somewhere felt this same way. I felt seen and validated on a level I haven't very often in life.
Writing is great and all -- especially now that I work for myself and have exciting new opportunities to explore. But it's not the be-all and end-all to my life by any means. The things that make life feel worth living and keep me going are those little things -- private jokes between Seth and me, the pleasure of enjoying a wonderful meal, or a beautiful movie that leaves you thinking for days afterward. I feel sorry for anyone who thinks those experiences are more or less the same thing as "lying around watching soap operas all day." Not only do they matter immensely, but they're not really little things at all. They are the big things that drive everything else, and without them, life will always feel empty.
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