“Choices are the hinges of destiny.” – Pythagoras
When my mother was visiting this past week, we spent some time wandering by the monuments here in Washington and she posed a question I had never really thought to ask.
She wondered, in several instances, about how I ended up where I am today — in Washington, a journalist, with aspirations to work in foreign affairs. Am I passionate about foreign policy because my parents ensured I spoke Russian at home when I was growing up? Or because they taught me about my family’s history and culture? Did I end up in Washington because of my studies at Boston University and inspiration from some politically-astute professors? Would I still end up here eventually if I didn’t take a journalism job in Washington 4 years ago? What would have happened if I didn’t do all those things?
I’d like to think I would still find my way to where I belong . . .
It’s a tough balance believing in fate and simultaneously strongly believing that every life choice matters. As I struggle to make potentially life-altering decisions about my future right now, I have to think about both. As a self-starter and generally pushy human being, I know that getting what I want means making a path for myself even when there isn’t one already there. But a small part of me still knows that no matter what choices I ultimately make, I will end up where I need to be.