Monday, July 15, 2013

Found: Poetry in Motion

I've been writing a lot about my recent bout of Industry Excess, i.e., furlough, cut-back, reduction in force, out-sourcing, lay-off. I wanted to be honest without being over-emotional or fatalistic and offer some encouragement and a framework for coping, and not just coping but overcoming. The effects of being laid off can be staggering, as I've learned from many over the last several years who were far more transparent than I ever was about my struggle.

During my last lay-off (2007), I took to writing sardonic poetry, in one case repenning the words to "Allentown," exchanging "steel" to "IT." Such poems did more harm than good, if they did any good.

I also wrote poetry informed by isolation, dejection, fear, and loneliness. Sometimes you have a period in your life in which you are ashamed of how you felt or behaved, and those memories can be like hauntings. I associate those hauntings with waste, and therefore guilt.  I was hurting deeply, not just from the lay-off but from the divorce.

A few years later, I read the poems again, and found something completely different, something so completely obvious to me now that I think it must have been a future self, an angel some may say, wrapping its arms around my then-self.

In my deepest sorrows, my senses were heightened, not just heightened but acute, in overdrive. I wonder now how I was not exhausted from taking in the minutia of every detail around me. But reading these poems years later, the vivid details recounted beauty.  I was noticing beauty! Beauty! What started in sadness, ended in a surreal sense of the beauty of the world around me. I felt removed from civilization for so many reasons, but the trees, the clouds, the sunlight, the sand, and the waves were sisters, holding me in their arms. It was beauty, and the search and discovery thereof, that brought me to tears, diamond shards of a broken heart, reflecting and refracting. And yet, I did not search. It was in plain sight, my eyes sharper for it than at any other time in my life. This is how the heart heals. The heart takes control of the eyes.

Heightened. My senses were heightened, not deadened! Not squelched. Not marginalized. I flirted with hopelessness but never courted it. These poems were cries. Prayers. Beliefs. More than any other time in my life, these poems prove that I did not waste. I did not wallow. In fact, I realize now, I reveled. I praised. I begged. To beg is to want. To want is to believe. And I had the courage to visit these emotions. Yes, courage. Courage to find the beauty. Courage to believe it is in every cell of our being, every whisper of the wind, every drop of sun, in every cloud, every rain drop, every leaf, every wave on Lake Michigan, every grain of sand. Only the brave will seek, and only the tenacious shall find.

I found. And now I'm haunted no more.

This is one of the many benefits about writing about our lives, publicly or privately. I find that doing it publicly (even though I have but a few readers, and I mean probably fewer than five people) rather than privately makes me actually do it.

There are times when I think this blog is a waste of time, particularly because I tell but a handful of friends about its existence (and I'm not even sure they read it), and because it seems indulgent. But it's not indulgent to recount the details of your life. In writing these moments, I could be quelling future hauntings, future doubts, and commemorating the bounty of beauty that is bestowed upon on every day.  If anything, I'm not writing enough! In fact, because so few people read it, I might have even more freedom to write even more personally.

When I found out I was losing my job, I felt a brake/pedal, brake/pedal, brake/pedal flux going through me. Brake: my life is over, my prospects nil. Pedal: my life is just beginning, my canvas bare, my paintbrush poised. Brake; don't be so sure. Pedal: Open yourself to every opportunity. Brake; you'll be a shell of what you were. Pedal: you'll be a new person.

I felt different this time around. What once brought crippling anxiety now brings a new determination. Last time I wrote poetry. This time I write myself a new prescription. My prescription. Be tangibly productive. Do not court sorrow. Instead embrace freedom.

Do you realize how many wonderful things you can do with your day when you're not forced to commute, go to meetings, write project plans, report statuses, battle traffic, set alarm clocks, and toil for someone else?

The truth is, work can be damn inconvenient.

The truth is, the past few weeks have been some of the happiest of my life.

For your consideration, here is a list of things you can do when you're laid off that you can't do when you're gainfully employed:

Stay up late reading and falling in love with words
Stay up late watching old 70s movies and feeling nostalgic for your childhood
Stay up late watching TED videos feeling hopeful for your future
Read entire novels in one sitting
Spend hours drawing for no particular purpose other than to improve your drawing
Wake up at any hour you wish and don't put on clothes til (if) you feel like it
Travel as often as you wish
Go to a different park everyday
Cook elaborate meals for yourself and others
Chat with neighbors
Ride your bike all day
Visit friends nightly
Travel

Here's just a quick list of the fun and productivity my life has entailed since returning from our big adventure to Washington, Canada, and Alaska.

Visited and hosted many friends for deck beers and conversations and laughter; the "soft opening" of Ralf & Jim's verandah; day drinking with Dottie, David, and Darren; a hash run; hikes with Primo; long bike rides; a long lunch with Allison that turned into happy hour; Summer Solstice on Daniel's deck overlooking the river in lovely Rocky Ripple; hours at the gym and in the sauna for "me time;" cooked countless delicious meals at home; read three books; rehearsed a Fringe play; outlined a new play of my own; sushi with Dave; many TED talks; some Moth Story Hours; a company picnic at Victory Field with baseball, hotdogs, and fireworks; a party at Clay's; and accomplished the following hard labor tasks around mi casa: ripped up over 200 yds of grass to make room for my future urban prairie; power washed and stained my deck; laid forty paver stones; trash dove; planted over forty perennials; planted six new trees; hung birdhouses my dad made the first year of his retirement; hung hummingbird feeders; cleaned out two closets; hosted two people in the artist's hostel; made a future booking for the The Beat Lounge; bought, assembled, and mounted a bike rack for my vehicle; and finally, cleaned, organized, swept, mopped, and squeegeed my garage--a task so monumental that I've contemplated hiring a professional to complete it. But I did it. And I did it my way. I've got a hardware section, a painting section, a plumbing section, an automotive section, a yard & garden section, a camping section, a memorabilia section, a sporting goods section, a pet section, a winter section. The next time you're in my garage, you're going to think you're in Lowe's, and you're going to start forking over money for my stuff, and that's okay. You can do that. I have too much stuff and not enough money so it works out perfect!

I've done some fantastic travel in times of unemployment. In 2007, I went to Key West, the Everglades, Miami, L.A., Chicago (4x), Michigan (10-20 times?), New York, and Chile.

Now is the time to travel!

Since I still have the time to do it, I want to travel as much as possible, all road trips so that my beloved canine best friend can join us. My partner and I planned a trip to Michigan. I grew up there, and he grew up there, (on different sides of the state in different decades) yet I have seen surprisingly little of it.

Our plan was to spend several days with my family over the 4th and enjoy the spectacular fireworks on Silver Beach, then head north to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park (named most beautiful place in America by Good Morning America in 2011) and Tahaquemon Falls! I even talked him into camping, an idea he could merely tolerate just a couple of months ago when I first suggested our trip to Clifty Falls.

It was all set. Roadtrip 2013! Or should I say "Glamping 2013!"

Okay I'm not quite a glamper yet. I still have a tent after all, but I do have some really great recipes for camp cooking. Someday I'd love to have a glamped out retro camper, complete with the stringed lanterns I remember from camping in the early 70s.

We stayed with my parents for a week. Even my cat came with us, who is becoming quite the queen of that castle.  I always love going there, but this time it was exceptionally fun, and the days flew by.  We arrived on a rainy night and had a quiet simple dinner and ice cold beer and went to the fireworks in Baroda on a spur of the moment. My mom hopped in the car with us.

We spent the next day at the beach, packing a cooler full of water, fruit, sandwiches, and beer. We both took a long run and enjoyed the cool water after then napped the rest of the day. We went to the fireworks on Silver Beach on the 4th, again taking my mom. It was a gorgeous night, and we watched a brilliant sunset.

The next day we did a super long bike ride taking in three of four wineries along the way. Our favorite was Gravity Winery, where they do sampling by flights, matching them up with cheeses and chocolates. We had a cookout that night with my brother's family.

The next day we were back at the beach, the next day another long bike ride along the Paw Paw River, the next day we went to Pier 33 and hung out on his friends big, beautiful but currently broken boat. Still lots of fun partying on the docks. Just like the good old days when my parents had a boat at Mulhagen's back in the early 80s. The next day we were back on a beach. We took many walks, had many talks, and stayed up late every night reading. We also had a really nice visit with my mom and dad. I think they find us to be really low maintenance house guests and enjoy having us. I cooked for us a few nights, and my dad made fish and venison on the grill one night. And of course one night we went to our favorite place, Silver Beach pizza, home of the schooner.

I grew up in such a beautiful area with endless summer and winter activities. It's so fun taking someone who appreciates it and who is so full of energy and wants to take it all in. He's the best travel companion ever.

We had to cancel our camping expeditions up north when Primo somehow split one of his nails, which ultimately landed him in a cast. We decided to put off the camping for another time. Reluctantly. We returned to Indy, agreeing to make the most of it, to travel in our own space, yes, to Journey in Place. I won't lie that I was not excited it, even though I proclaim to love notion passionately, even naming a blog after it. I just didn't equate adventure and beauty with Indy. Apologies to my fellow Hoosiers who think it's wonderful here.

But we wound up having a wonderful time, and we did the most simple things. We shopped. We cooked. We read. We...

...rode our bikes over thirty miles on the Monon, stopping at as many breweries as possible along the way, as always having the best conversations and laughs.

...went to Tibbs drive-in movie theater, an Indianapolis staple, the first time for both of us. We stayed out til 3 a.m. watching movies! (The Heat (hilarious), World War Z (dumb but entertaining), and part of This is the End (horrible ego fest of over-privileged, under-deserving writers and actors.) I keep saying this, but oh well, We had so much fun! We packed a cooler full of snacks and beer (wait, I keep saying that too), played on the playground, visited the concession, set up our lawn chairs, and then watched the bats come out and rush the screen when the movie started. I hadn't been to a drive-in movie since 1976 when my dad took us to see Rocky at the Stevensville Drive-In theater, and being there brought back so many memories! It seems that every summer I ache for the 70s!

...went hiking at Shades State Park. What a beautiful place, and hardly anyone goes there. The DNR kept is as natural as possible besides the trails. No inn, no pool, no reason for modern families with device-spoiled (phones, tablets, portable televisions) kids to visit. We saw only one other family, and that was not exactly fun as the aging mom had removed her shirt reveal a sweaty red stripper's bra in which kept her Marlboro's snug in many layers of blubber. You'll never guess what we did. Packed a cooler with lunch and beer.

...went to Brookville Lake in Southeastern Indiana to hang out on his friend's house boat and to go skiing on his speed boat. Evidently everyone has two boats on this lake--one to overnight on and drink and eat on and one to go skiing on. The water felt amazing--clear, warm, and blue, and we swam and played from noon til night. The incidental road trips across rural Indiana have also been fun. So much sky to see out in the country, from horizon to horizon. You just don't see that city. Oh, why didn't I take a picture?

...hosted a dinner party for eight people on my deck. I made mango fruit salad, shrimp on the barbie, quinoa with black beans and mango, pineapple chicken, roasted summer vegetables, and watermelon, plus two kinds of sangria.

This time, it's true. I have it easier. I have a wonderful partner from whom I can draw support and share happy times. I have a stronger sense of self. I have history to remind myself that I survived it once. And I have a greater desire to live better, and the tools to make it happen.

All of this fun and productivity is the best poetry I have ever written!

So far, I'm calling this funemployment.