“What do you do?” - Escaping the inescapable question.

“Hey mate, I’m sitting in the seat next to you.”

The man peers down at me, gesturing at the seat to my left. 

I stand up, cautiously avoiding the overhead baggage compartment, and allow the man to shimmy into the middle seat (poor bugger, the worst seat!)

Without conscious effort, my brain observes details about the stranger, soon to become my Christchurch-bound flying buddy. Bronzed, lean and muscular, the man would look quite at home next to Achilles.

Must be an endurance athlete of some kind. Maybe an ultra runner?

Not one to stare blankly at the seat in front of me, I ignite the conversation with one of my best lines.

“What are you flying down for?”

The classic aeroplane opener! I almost cringed as the words left my mouth, but I could hardly open with, “Bro you’re jacked!” 

He responds.

“I’m flying down for a bodybuilding competition. I’m competing tomorrow.”

Huh. Turns out, “Bro, you’re jacked” could’ve actually gone down quite well!

He goes on to tell me about the dehydration process he undertakes in order to look as lean as possible on stage. Muscular definition is a sought after attribute as a bodybuilder, so the dehydration process becomes very important in order to look as ‘cut’ as possible. The more you look like a muscular cheese grater, the more the judges will favour you.

He cottons on to my interest in the conversation, so he summons all of his verbal flair, and hits me with the big one.

“So what do you do?”

Fuck.

What should I say? Should I answer with what my job is? Or, what do I do in my free time? Or perhaps, what do I do behind a closed door? 

Quickly discounting the latter, I decide to go with the social norm. I’ll tell him what my job is.

“I’m a movement coach.” I gasp, reeling.

Now, here’s the thing. It wasn’t the question that bothered me. It wasn’t the guy either. (Although I did feel slightly guilty eating next to him in his emaciated state). With social interactions, particularly with a stranger, both parties are trying to find out about the other person. To spark conversation, to create common ground, and ultimately, to understand each other.

What bothered me was that I didn’t know how to answer his question.

Am I a movement coach? A salsa dancer? A musician? A full-time thalassophile…? 

And if I do define myself by a construct, then I must live by it!

If I am healthy, I can only do healthy things.

If I am extroverted, I can only be outgoing around others.

If I meditate, I have to do it EVERY DAMN DAY!

But of course, I can’t be a purist. It’s impossible. And yet through social expectations and my own hard-wiring, I felt like I needed to be defined by one thing. 

And that’s when I read a book.

Change Makers by Dr John Berardi literally did change me. The book is about how to be successful in the health and fitness industry. Berardi points out that in this day and age, we need less specialists and more generalists. We need more people who have a broader range of skills as opposed to people that are stuck in one discipline and one discipline only. We need to feel like we can explore a range of different interests, and that it’s okay to not be defined by any one of them.

Health and fitness context aside, he just answered the question to my existential crisis.  

I didn’t need to define myself by any one thing. In fact, doing so was limiting my freedom. It was limiting my happiness, and my feeling of peace.

Through a gradual process (which is still ongoing) of affirming this in my own mind, I came to this conclusion: 

I can be a jiggly wiggly, salsa dancing, instrument strumming, sea lover all at once. 

I am all of those things. And also none of those things. It’s up to me what I choose to do in my life at any one time. And that can always change. In fact, it should always change. Life shouldn't be an experience only lived in one lane. It should be experienced in many different lanes, in many different cars, and at many different speeds.

So today, if you were to ask me, “Jordan, what do you do?”

I might give you the same answer, as I gave the man on the plane.

Or, I might say, “I do lots of things.”

And if you were to ask me again tomorrow, the answer might be different.

And that’s okay.

Jordan Berry