The joy of being insignificant
I have a personal commitment to blog every week. And if you look at the history of this website, I’ve lived up to that commitment, over the last couple of years. You may also have noticed though, that I’d gone silent for the previous two months. I hadn’t given up on my commitment but was on a sabbatical. After close to 17 years at work, I took my third extended break to explore the forests of Central India, the vibrant island of Bali and the riverine habitats of Borneo’s orangutans, with my family and friends. Nothing was more important than being fully present in those special moments. Some of those moments are in the photographs you see below.
But you know what? I’ve had an epiphany during my sabbatical. I’m 100% certain that no one on the internet missed me while I was away. If I look back at my career choices, they’ve also led me to be insignificant enough at work, that I have been able to step away without the fear of things crashing and burning without me. People may have missed me, but not too much. The work I do is important, but not always urgent.
I realise what a privilege it is, to be that insignificant. I am only a cog in my company’s machine and an even smaller cog in my professional communities and the internet. It’s ok for me to disappear for a few weeks, without guilt or pressure - something more success and importance may not afford.
When I look back at my childhood, I remember my parents’ careers. Most of you will agree that working in the armed forces is amongst the most stressful careers out there. My dad got his commission in the 1960s and saw three wars across his career. My parents met each other while serving in the army in the rugged climate of the high Himalayas. Despite this stressful career, they could take a sabbatical each year if they wanted to - with 60 days of annual leave and 30 days of casual leave each year. And they did! Of course, I complain that we didn’t travel as much as we should have, but I can’t complain that I didn’t have enough of my parents as a child. For the time that they were away from work, my parents could be insignificant. Isn’t it a shame that while many of us earn far more than our previous generations, we don’t enjoy the same autonomy over our time and the ability to switch off the way they did?
Don’t get me wrong. The world needs workists - people for whom work is the centrepiece of their identity and life's purpose. Indeed, these achievers create the space for less ambitious people like me, to find balance across various parts of our life. But I’m not a workist. My work is only a part of who I am - a parent, a writer, a friend, a son, a lover and a photographer. Hindsight is always 20/20, so pardon me if I sound too smug. But when I look back at my life’s experiences - by accident or design - I’m glad I ended up being insignificant enough that no one misses me too much when I go away for a bit. I may not have made my dad proud, but I’m happy. That’s quite enough, isn’t it?