What Were You Made For?
I Used to Know...
“Now he had recognized himself as a dead man it became important to stay alive as long as possible.” - George Orwell
Recently someone I used to consider a friend told me (and I quote), “People like you aren’t usually recognized until after they’re dead.” By recognized, he meant it was unreasonable for me expect to support myself as an artist.
Needless to say, his comment didn’t go over well. I did not and do not believe I exist to be recognized by or to entertain others. Nor have I been operating under the illusion that fame and fortune are a measure of my worth. If something I create touches someone - offers insight or simply makes them smile - fantastic! But my survival shouldn’t depend on convincing others to part with their money or my ability to produce art that an employer (ad agency, publisher, online sales platform, etc.) can sell to make a profit. And yet, as Yancey Strickler, founder of Kickstarter, put it so eloquently, “In a world of global capitalism, creative people operate like 18th-century traveling peddlers, moving from village to village and project to project, trying to piece together a living.”
But I’m not here to complain about capitalism but to share what it has taught me.
Part I: The Song
The first part of what I’ve learned comes from a song written by Billie Eillish called, What Was I Made For. The version I’m sharing here is a cover by the a capella group, Chanticleer. I’m a big fan of Chanticleer, so when their cover of the song appeared in my feed I hit play. And I’ve been hitting play at least two or three times a day ever since. Why? Because the simple question and exquisite harmonies bring me to tears each time. Below are the two stanzas Chanticleer sings. The actual song is longer, but these two verses were exactly what I was meant to hear. Have a listen.
It took a lot of listening and a lot of tears for me to realize that I was not made for anyone or anything - that my purpose in life is my own to discover and share, and only when and if it feels right. This may seem simplistic, but the assumption that I was born to meet the needs, expectations, and desires of others was ingrained in me from a very early age and has kept me running in circles trying to be worthy of attention and love. My tears were tears of frustration, exhaustion, and sadness.
Part II - The Answer
The second thing I learned came from a response I wrote to a question posed by the ever erudite and endlessly funny E. Jean Carroll. I’ve learned to never be fooled by E. Jean’s cheerful persona and seemingly casual questions. E. Jean is a master of the sub-surface probe, which can be as painful as a dentist exposing a cavity that needs filling. This is the question she asked as part of her interview with Kathy Griffin:
“Who Is the Person in Your Life Who Helped Form the Spectacular Person You Are Today?” - E. Jean Carroll
My Answer
After decades (dare I say lifetimes) of digging through the rubble of the endlessly complex variations of the human play (points to the farce currently unfolding on the world stage) I have concluded that human beings are in my life to show me what I have to heal. It has taken me a long long time to understand that I am not a victim of these people and experiences - to see them as opportunities to retrieve my authentic Self. The trouble of course is that the human plays feel SO real. But I digress.
This is not to say that human beings have not been there for me - they have. Some have even saved my life - literally. However, E. Jean’s question was about who has made me the person I am today. The honest answer is animals.
Starting with Ginger (the Cocker Spaniel mix who hid with me from my father under the bed) and continuing with Tom (an all black tom cat who loved me for 18 years after jumping out of a tree onto my father's head on Halloween night), the animals in my life have not only loved me but fueled my creativity as well. I drew many many pictures and wrote many many stories about the adventures of the critters in my life. Words, I discovered, meant nothing to them unless they were spoken with love, so I learned to infuse everything I write with emotional integrity.
I should also mention (just for fun) that they have included dogs, cats, guppies, skunks, three white ducks, a former racehorse, a very smelly billy goat, a one-legged mockingbird, Spinner dolphins, Humpback whales, green sea turtles, white-tailed deer, Rocky Mountain elk, gray foxes, Barred owls, and most recently a mother opossum.
All of this is to say that though I am neither spectacular nor noteworthy by human standards, I AM loved and have a home with the animals who grace my life (can you feel them frolicking all around this post?) and that has made all the difference.
Moving Forward
The question of how to remain true to my creative self and still survive still looms large of course. It would be nice to be able to pay my bills, afford healthcare for myself and my animals, and visit some of the places on the planet that have been calling to me. However, it appears that at 69 I am no longer employable in the traditional sense. Nor, if I am honest, do I really want to be.
What I want is something I’ve discovered while writing my latest book, We Stand in the Middle. Steeped in the history and culture of the Aniyvwiya (Cherokee) people, the book chronicles the story of Madison Clark (a young photojournalist) as she discovers that the land she’s inherited is much more than a piece of prime real estate.
The Cherokee believe that their purpose is to be caretakers and protectors of the land, and that they can only be effective by achieving and maintaining a healthy balance between body, mind, and spirit - what they call ayetli tsidoga, standing in the middle.
Inherent in the Cherokee way of life is the belief that everyone has stories to contribute to the community and that those stories benefit everyone. It is by hearing, reflecting on, and sharing stories that wisdom is gained and balance maintained.
As I’ve watched more and more storytellers, whose work I admire, join and build thriving communities here on Substack, I’ve begun to wonder about my own. I am not someone who enjoys parsing politics or writing opinion pieces. And once I get the bit of a new story between my teeth, you can bet I’ll be focused on it for awhile. I enjoy going deep, looking for taproots, and building relationships based on mutual respect, understanding, and love of the planet. Does that sound like you? If so, I’d be honored to have you as part of my community.
Thank you for reading along.
Jena
P.S. If you’re interested in reading We Stand in the Middle, please visit Whales in My Backyard and subscribe:
Copyright 2025 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
WELL SAID, JENA:
"As I’ve watched more and more storytellers, whose work I admire, join and build thriving communities here on Substack, I’ve begun to wonder about my own. I am not someone who enjoys parsing politics or writing opinion pieces. And once I get the bit of a new story between my teeth, you can bet I’ll be focused on it for awhile. I enjoy going deep, looking for taproots, and building relationships based on mutual respect, understanding, and love of the planet. Does that sound like you? If so, I’d be honored to have you as part of my community."
Jena! My animals were part of my making too and are included in my response from E. Jean. Animals have been a constant source of love in my life and in them I see my soul more clearly than from any human. I do not know the former friend who I hope was not attempting to be unkind but instead was pointing out how many brilliant people are on Earth whose art whether it be writing painting or another medium are never known...until post mortem. Like Emily Dickinson. Or Van Gogh. However! This cannot be you because through your art you HAVE made a difference! With Ukrainians! With me! With Animals! It may not be known by a wide berth...but it is known.