Vocation becomes us.

Many years ago, I had bought a new car and one Sunday morning I just drove off. I met him over a cup of tea. He was undergoing/recovering from a bitter divorce and loss of twenty percent of net worth due to it. Explaining his routine and virtues of being single again, were the topics of conversation. Loss of weight and loss of purpose was visible.
We chatted about variety of subjects. He explained how he was focusing on business and realigning things. And said: ‘after all the work gives us the identity.’ It was an interesting presumption and a sumptuous food for thought.
How many times when we meet a person, the first question (if not the second) is ‘what do you do for living?’ Which means the vocation for earning not the way of living. We so readily believe that identity created with vocation will sail us through life.

Cry for identity.

The first cry for identity becomes palpable when a child identify his toys and his right of dominion over such toy. Need and habits to look for applaud take roots. The birth of rigid identity takes place with the burst of hormones and there is no turning back from that point.

Work and relationship.

Need to earn or not, work which earns money or recognition by more people, remains most important. Work is the only friend of workaholic. Most endeared friend for the rest of people, not so workaholic. The importance of work becomes an impediment in relationships. The latter often requiring absolute submission. The work which was an escape from loneliness takes a full circle and leaves us lonely and wounded.

Importance of identity.

The question is, why identity is so important. After all different people do know us in different roles but why an attempt to identify with one role in life.  It is neither practical nor helpful. It is not suggested to destroy anything, but why do it when it neither helps loneliness nor the relationships?
Similar problems arise with causes. Cause of being black or red neck or native or aboriginal or identifying with region, religion or language or gender. All these causes give an identity which sooner than later, occupy most of our thought. Crippling the mind for anything else. Not even plain observation. We pass each other without noticing. A casual conversation, a chat, a hobby or a visit to any place without the cause or work becomes waste of time. Or is it time of waste?
Life become a cause and we its martyr, living the terminal illness not the life. How rainbow can be of a single colour?