I dropped out of school for a semester, transferred to another

In the reflective and quietly defiant words, “I dropped out of school for a semester, transferred to another college, switched to an art major, graduated, got married, and for a while worked as a graphic designer,” James Green Somerville speaks not merely of academic changes or career turns, but of the fluid nature of the human journey. His words capture a truth as old as time — that life seldom follows a straight path, and that purpose is not a line but a spiral, winding through failure, discovery, love, and creation. Beneath the ordinary rhythm of his statement lies a profound declaration: that it is not constancy but adaptability, not perfection but perseverance, that carries a soul toward fulfillment.

The origin of this quote rests in Somerville’s own life, a journey marked by shifts and rediscoveries. His confession is simple, almost casual, yet it reflects the quiet courage of one who has wrestled with uncertainty and refused to surrender to convention. To drop out, to transfer, to switch majors — these are not acts of instability, but of self-correction. They are the movements of a seeker who dares to realign himself with truth when the old path no longer fits. He chose not to be chained by momentum, but to begin again, again, and again — and in doing so, he exemplifies the courage of renewal, that ancient virtue of those who are humble enough to change direction when the winds of the heart demand it.

This story, though modern in its details, belongs to an eternal tradition. The ancients knew that the path of wisdom is rarely direct. Odysseus did not sail straight to Ithaca; his voyage was scattered across storms, islands, and temptations, each detour shaping his soul for homecoming. So too, Somerville’s journey through universities, through art, through marriage and labor, mirrors this odyssey — not of geography, but of identity. To change one’s course is not to be lost; it is to be alive. Only the dead remain fixed. The living are always in motion, learning the rhythm of their own becoming.

To switch to art is itself a powerful symbol in Somerville’s tale. Art is the domain of those who transform chaos into creation, pain into beauty. It is the sacred act of reinterpreting one’s path — of taking the broken fragments of life and turning them into meaning. In choosing art, he chose not the security of convention, but the vulnerability of expression. He accepted that a true education is not found solely in classrooms, but in the heart’s dialogue with experience. Thus, when he later “worked as a graphic designer,” he was not abandoning his dreams, but translating them into service — giving form to ideas, shaping thought into image, creation into livelihood.

There is a quiet heroism in the middle of his sentence — “graduated, got married, and for a while worked…” The ancient philosophers would have admired this moderation, this balance between dream and duty. Life, after all, is not a single victory but a sequence of harmonies. Somerville’s journey reminds us that stability is not the absence of change, but the mastery of it. The man who can shift, adapt, and still move forward is like the river: always flowing, never the same, yet always itself.

Consider also the story of Vincent van Gogh, another soul who began as a minister, then a missionary, and finally became the painter whose art changed the world. His life, too, was one of restarts and redefinitions, marked not by linear success but by relentless authenticity. Van Gogh’s path teaches the same truth that Somerville’s does: that to live meaningfully is to honor evolution — to allow yourself to be remade by time, experience, and love.

The lesson, then, is both humbling and empowering: Do not fear to change your course when your spirit calls for it. The straight path is rarely the most honest. Growth demands detours, and purpose often hides behind what the world calls “mistakes.” To drop out may lead you to wake up; to start again may lead you home. The value of life is not measured by how steady the road is, but by how faithfully you walk it — even when it bends.

The practical action is this: embrace change as a companion, not an enemy. When your heart feels restless, listen. When your path grows narrow, move. Learn from each chapter, whether it lasts a day or a decade. Let your journey be like Somerville’s — imperfect yet sincere, winding yet forward. For the soul that dares to realign itself with truth at every turn will, in time, find not just success, but selfhood — the quiet, enduring art of becoming who you were always meant to be.