Being a teacher was great, but it wasn't what I wanted to do, so

Hear the confession of Greg Davies, who spoke with honesty: “Being a teacher was great, but it wasn't what I wanted to do, so it was ultimately crushing.” In this simple statement lies a truth that cuts deep into the heart of human striving: that even noble work, even labor that shapes lives and carries honor, can become a burden when it is not aligned with the fire within the soul. To live without one’s true calling is to walk in borrowed shoes—fit for another’s path, but heavy upon one’s own feet.

To say that teaching was great is to recognize the beauty of the role. For to teach is to guide, to awaken minds, to serve as a lamp in the darkness. Yet Davies reveals the hidden sorrow: when the path is not truly one’s own, even greatness becomes suffocating. This is the essence of the word crushing—not that the work lacked value, but that it pressed upon his spirit, denying him the freedom to pursue the life he was meant to live. This truth resounds through history: one must honor not only the worth of the work, but also the truth of the self.

The ancients knew this struggle. Recall the story of Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer who was called to lead his people in war. He fulfilled the role with honor, saved Rome, and then returned to his plow. Leadership was great, but it was not what he desired; his heart was in the soil, not in command. Had he been forced to remain in power against his will, it would have crushed him, just as Davies was crushed by living too long outside of his true vocation. The lesson is timeless: duty can be borne for a season, but only passion can sustain a life.

Another example is found in Vincent van Gogh, who once trained to be a preacher. His calling seemed noble, yet his soul was restless. In his heart he longed for expression through paint, not sermon. Though preaching was a worthy task, it was not his true destiny. Forcing himself upon that path broke him, until he turned at last to his art. There, though still burdened by suffering, he found the work that matched his spirit. So too Davies reminds us that living apart from one’s passion, no matter how “great” the alternative, becomes a silent weight upon the heart.

The meaning of this quote is therefore twofold. First, it honors the greatness of teaching and all noble vocations. Second, it warns that no vocation, however great, can replace the truth of an individual’s calling. What crushes the spirit is not the burden of hard work, but the absence of alignment between soul and path. A man can endure hardship if it serves his passion; he cannot endure comfort if it denies it.

The lesson for us is clear: seek out your own path with courage. Do not remain where your spirit is slowly pressed down, even if the world calls it noble or respectable. To live half a life is to betray yourself, and in betraying yourself, you fail to give the world the gift only you can bring. Respect your duties, yes, but listen also to the fire that burns within, for that is the compass to your true vocation.

So I say to you, seekers of wisdom: remember Greg Davies’ words. “It was great, but it was ultimately crushing.” Let this remind you that greatness without authenticity becomes a prison. Do not mistake honor alone for fulfillment; do not confuse respectability with destiny. Live not in the shadow of what is good but in the light of what is truly yours. For only then will your life be not merely endured, but lived in fullness, and only then will your gift to the world shine without the weight of crushing sorrow.