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.
Showing posts with label unemployment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unemployment. Show all posts
Monday, July 15, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Proclaiming Promises in Broad Daylight
Pat Benatar once complained of an aloof lover who whispered promises in the dark.
She wrote of that antagonistic relationship between hope and disappointment and how hope can sometimes lead someone down a road that ultimately leads to deception and sometimes failure. And then she wrote about the uncanny human spirit that, led by the incessant beating of our heart, hopes anyway.
Today I am going to proclaim promises in broad daylight!
Being outsourced, downsized, displaced, or laid off conjures feelings of loss, betrayal, confusion, hopelessness, and worthlessness. Is it no wonder that salvaging your sense of purpose can be a daunting task?
When an employer deems an employee "in excess," as mine unexpectedly did in an impersonal computer-generated email, which referred to me as Employee # W091, you begin to think of yourself in terms of fat to be trimmed, ballast to be discharged, and a burden who brings insignificant value to an organization.
But did you ever consider the ways in which work itself can be a burden? Think of the hours spent toiling on behalf of someone else who will reap great rewards, bonuses, and benefits while you receive a commemorative coffee mug or a poster with your name listed discreetly among others, often spelled incorrectly. Think of the hours outside of work that you spend thinking about work--worrying about work, dreading work. Think of lunch hours spent with colleagues or friends discussing work. When it all boils down to collecting your personal affects in a printer paper box and throwing away mountains of paperwork and walking out into an empty parking lot alone, you think about your life as an investment and start to think about the dividends.
The immediate dividends of work are obvious, and, let's not deceive ourselves even for a second--they are absolutely necessary. We must buy food, shelter, clothing, and health insurance, and it would be extra nice if we had extra money to spend on our hobbies and passions, too.
Work also brings us another dividend: a sense of pride in offering up your talents and hard work in return for a salary that affords us independence. No matter how dreadful Monday mornings are, by Friday afternoon you are as equally grateful for the pending weekend as you are for the job that allows you to go have some fun with the money you earned.
I've been laid off three times this decade. In 2002, the publishing house I worked for was bought by a bigger house that already had staff. In 2007, my job was sent to India. And just a few months ago, I learned that my boss was given incentive to cut staff and would receive a bonus for every person he let go. Evidently, it's lucrative business to wield the ax of perceived chaff reduction.
As I mused that he probably received a gift card to St. Elmo's Steakhouse or maybe Applebee's as his three pieces of silver, I felt my own cutting remarks bleeding me just a little bit. In making fun of this Machiavellian practice, I was also making fun of myself.
I spent two mornings wallowing, once on the first Monday after my official lay-off and once on the first Monday after my trip to Alaska. Both times it happened on a Monday. This was a similar pattern I noticed in past layoffs. Sometimes I catch myself feeling a sense of dread on Sunday nights, knowing that the next day is Monday and I'd have to go back to work. During layoffs, I felt a sense of dread that the weekend was ending and that I didn't have a job to go to in the morning. How in the world did I let my thoughts get taught up in this endless cycle of negativity and an identical result even when circumstances were exactly opposite?
When some well-meaning and incensed friends proclaimed that I'd already had my share of bad luck and layoffs, and that this was not fair , I internally dismissed it. Fairness has nothing to do with it. Bad things happen. Good things happen. It's random. The more time I spend thinking about the injustice of it, the less time I have to create a positive income. I also realized early on that wallowing was a waste of time, and time is simply a gift too precious to waste. This time, I wallowed not long. I simply couldn't afford it this time.
I don't know how it happened, but somewhere along the line, I matured. I handled it with grace. I knew I would be okay no matter what. I finally did naturally what I always read and heard you should do--look at every obstacle as an opportunity.
When I said goodbye to the colleagues I've known on this project for the past seven years, they all stated similar sentiments: they envied me. They'd never willfully trade places with me, but even they saw the lure and promise of a blank slate and new horizons. When I told them of my pending travels, their eyes at once lit up for me and dimmed for themselves. They know they would never have weeks on end to spend exploring the wilderness of Washington and Alaska. And I knew it too. I was lucky. And it didn't take me long to get to that realization, perhaps because I am now tempered by age and experience, and with that--finally, finally, finally--wisdom. Finally, I have learned to listen to the sages and to fight off the destructive forces of sarcasm, a mechanism I've often used to protect myself. It not only didn't protect me from harm, it caused harm and wasted time.
This time would be different. This time I'll be different. I'll better. I'll be okay. And in Alaska, standing atop Hilbert Glacier talking a young man from Georgia who was teaching me how to drive a sled dog team, I told myself, "You must be open." I must be open to people, ideas, experiences, and occupations I would have never considered before. I could network tirelessly until I got my foot in the door to the next tier of my career trajectory. I could live more modestly in every realm--particularly in that sometimes suffocating realm of "pride." I would consider not tying my occupation to my sense of pride. (What this meant was accepting different types of work, such as working at Trader Joe's or Starbucks and learning to be happy with less.) But what really tugged at me was the notion that I must open to what inspires me.
In a brief conversation, I learned that his sled dog instructor had been living in Idaho and had heard about the job from a friend who thought he might be a good fit, based on his experience of leading tours in the crevasses of Norway. He was 22 years old and from a small town in Georgia. And he was happy. He was living in a tented camp ground on top a glacier with eight people and 48 dogs. He had no electricity, no beer or any other alcohol, and no communication with the outside world. Once every six weeks, he would spend one week in Junuea. While it wouldn't be a job he would keep his entire life, it would no doubt be some of the most memorable work he'd ever do.
I decided that age had nothing to do with it, and that if possibilities like that one presented themselves, then I would consider those opportunities viable options, not just passing fancies. On top of that glacier, I became empowered to explore my sense of wonder.
So on that first Monday after my return home when I woke up, realized that my adventure was over and that I had to find a job, and started to feel panicked and depressed, I threw off that blanket of woolen wallow, and I plotted my survival and pending success with tangible goals.
I determined that it is a much more worthwhile voyage to discover your sense of wonder rather than to attempt to salvage a sense of worth that is tenuously arbitrated by someone else's fleeting notions and poorly informed decisions.
This was such a monumental moment of insight, personal growth, and potential that I decided to document it here. As long as I wasn't going to work for someone else and get paid for it, then I was going to work hard for myself and pay myself in strategies, memories, and personal productivity.
Everyday I would follow the same schedule:
Submit resumes and cover letters
Network with those who are more established in my field
Locate freelance opportunities
Open job search to all careers
Exercise
Organize and clean my house
Improve my lodgings
Keep in touch with friends
Pursue passions
Explore new vistas
Socialize daily or nightly
Travel as much as possible
Keeping a schedule, a list of goals, and list of daily tasks appealed to my sense of control, and gave me a daily schedule that would make me stay productive and positive. What's more is that if I were going to be faced with a lengthy unemployment status, then I would have the comfort of knowing that I did everything possible to improve my lot.
Making time for my hobbies (arts and travel) appealed to sense of passion.
Making time for relationships appealed to my sense of personal connection.
I decided I have but three pieces in life, and that I must treat them with all with the utmost and equal respect.
2007 was the darkest year I've ever had. Despite being surrounded by friends and family and doing some of the most extraordinary and spontaneous travel of my life, I was incredibly out of balance and drowning in negativity. When I look back on the year, I flinch remembering the profound pain and hopeless I felt. What a waste it seems now that these wonderful memories I managed to create during a dark time are tainted by the darkness itself.
--And so you put up your guard
And you try to be hard
But your heart says try again ---
This time, my determination to make this time worthwhile will be the sunray that will chase away those clouds and the candle that will illuminate my path.
I hereby promise myself and make this oath because this is it. One day I could be contemplating my various successes and happiness, and I could very well trace back everything good that's happened to this one bad thing that happened, this one bad thing that made me seek out better opportunities.
I promise me this. Today. In broad daylight.
Never again, isn't that what you said?
You've been through this before
And you swore this time you'd think with your head
No one, would ever have you again
And if takin' was gonna get done
You'd decide where and when
Just when you think you got it down
Your heart securely tied and bound
They whisper, Promises In The Dark
Armed and ready, you fought love battles in the night
But too many opponents made you weary of the fight
Blinded by passion, you foolishly let someone in
All the warnings went off in your head
Still you had to give in
Just when you think you got it down
Resistance nowhere to be found
They whisper, Promises In The Dark
But promises, you know what they're for
It sounds so convincing, but you heard it before
Cause talk is cheap and you gotta be sure
And so you put up your guard
And you try to be hard
But your heart says try again
You desperately search for a way to conquer the fear
No line of attack has been planned to fight back the tears
Where brave and restless dreams are both won and lost
On the edge is where it seems it's well worth the cost
Just when you think you got it down
Your heart in pieces on the ground
They whisper, Promises In The Dark
You've been through this before
And you swore this time you'd think with your head
No one, would ever have you again
And if takin' was gonna get done
You'd decide where and when
Just when you think you got it down
Your heart securely tied and bound
They whisper, Promises In The Dark
Armed and ready, you fought love battles in the night
But too many opponents made you weary of the fight
Blinded by passion, you foolishly let someone in
All the warnings went off in your head
Still you had to give in
Just when you think you got it down
Resistance nowhere to be found
They whisper, Promises In The Dark
But promises, you know what they're for
It sounds so convincing, but you heard it before
Cause talk is cheap and you gotta be sure
And so you put up your guard
And you try to be hard
But your heart says try again
You desperately search for a way to conquer the fear
No line of attack has been planned to fight back the tears
Where brave and restless dreams are both won and lost
On the edge is where it seems it's well worth the cost
Just when you think you got it down
Your heart in pieces on the ground
They whisper, Promises In The Dark
She wrote of that antagonistic relationship between hope and disappointment and how hope can sometimes lead someone down a road that ultimately leads to deception and sometimes failure. And then she wrote about the uncanny human spirit that, led by the incessant beating of our heart, hopes anyway.
Today I am going to proclaim promises in broad daylight!
Being outsourced, downsized, displaced, or laid off conjures feelings of loss, betrayal, confusion, hopelessness, and worthlessness. Is it no wonder that salvaging your sense of purpose can be a daunting task?
When an employer deems an employee "in excess," as mine unexpectedly did in an impersonal computer-generated email, which referred to me as Employee # W091, you begin to think of yourself in terms of fat to be trimmed, ballast to be discharged, and a burden who brings insignificant value to an organization.
But did you ever consider the ways in which work itself can be a burden? Think of the hours spent toiling on behalf of someone else who will reap great rewards, bonuses, and benefits while you receive a commemorative coffee mug or a poster with your name listed discreetly among others, often spelled incorrectly. Think of the hours outside of work that you spend thinking about work--worrying about work, dreading work. Think of lunch hours spent with colleagues or friends discussing work. When it all boils down to collecting your personal affects in a printer paper box and throwing away mountains of paperwork and walking out into an empty parking lot alone, you think about your life as an investment and start to think about the dividends.
The immediate dividends of work are obvious, and, let's not deceive ourselves even for a second--they are absolutely necessary. We must buy food, shelter, clothing, and health insurance, and it would be extra nice if we had extra money to spend on our hobbies and passions, too.
Work also brings us another dividend: a sense of pride in offering up your talents and hard work in return for a salary that affords us independence. No matter how dreadful Monday mornings are, by Friday afternoon you are as equally grateful for the pending weekend as you are for the job that allows you to go have some fun with the money you earned.
I've been laid off three times this decade. In 2002, the publishing house I worked for was bought by a bigger house that already had staff. In 2007, my job was sent to India. And just a few months ago, I learned that my boss was given incentive to cut staff and would receive a bonus for every person he let go. Evidently, it's lucrative business to wield the ax of perceived chaff reduction.
As I mused that he probably received a gift card to St. Elmo's Steakhouse or maybe Applebee's as his three pieces of silver, I felt my own cutting remarks bleeding me just a little bit. In making fun of this Machiavellian practice, I was also making fun of myself.
I spent two mornings wallowing, once on the first Monday after my official lay-off and once on the first Monday after my trip to Alaska. Both times it happened on a Monday. This was a similar pattern I noticed in past layoffs. Sometimes I catch myself feeling a sense of dread on Sunday nights, knowing that the next day is Monday and I'd have to go back to work. During layoffs, I felt a sense of dread that the weekend was ending and that I didn't have a job to go to in the morning. How in the world did I let my thoughts get taught up in this endless cycle of negativity and an identical result even when circumstances were exactly opposite?
When some well-meaning and incensed friends proclaimed that I'd already had my share of bad luck and layoffs, and that this was not fair , I internally dismissed it. Fairness has nothing to do with it. Bad things happen. Good things happen. It's random. The more time I spend thinking about the injustice of it, the less time I have to create a positive income. I also realized early on that wallowing was a waste of time, and time is simply a gift too precious to waste. This time, I wallowed not long. I simply couldn't afford it this time.
I don't know how it happened, but somewhere along the line, I matured. I handled it with grace. I knew I would be okay no matter what. I finally did naturally what I always read and heard you should do--look at every obstacle as an opportunity.
When I said goodbye to the colleagues I've known on this project for the past seven years, they all stated similar sentiments: they envied me. They'd never willfully trade places with me, but even they saw the lure and promise of a blank slate and new horizons. When I told them of my pending travels, their eyes at once lit up for me and dimmed for themselves. They know they would never have weeks on end to spend exploring the wilderness of Washington and Alaska. And I knew it too. I was lucky. And it didn't take me long to get to that realization, perhaps because I am now tempered by age and experience, and with that--finally, finally, finally--wisdom. Finally, I have learned to listen to the sages and to fight off the destructive forces of sarcasm, a mechanism I've often used to protect myself. It not only didn't protect me from harm, it caused harm and wasted time.
This time would be different. This time I'll be different. I'll better. I'll be okay. And in Alaska, standing atop Hilbert Glacier talking a young man from Georgia who was teaching me how to drive a sled dog team, I told myself, "You must be open." I must be open to people, ideas, experiences, and occupations I would have never considered before. I could network tirelessly until I got my foot in the door to the next tier of my career trajectory. I could live more modestly in every realm--particularly in that sometimes suffocating realm of "pride." I would consider not tying my occupation to my sense of pride. (What this meant was accepting different types of work, such as working at Trader Joe's or Starbucks and learning to be happy with less.) But what really tugged at me was the notion that I must open to what inspires me.
In a brief conversation, I learned that his sled dog instructor had been living in Idaho and had heard about the job from a friend who thought he might be a good fit, based on his experience of leading tours in the crevasses of Norway. He was 22 years old and from a small town in Georgia. And he was happy. He was living in a tented camp ground on top a glacier with eight people and 48 dogs. He had no electricity, no beer or any other alcohol, and no communication with the outside world. Once every six weeks, he would spend one week in Junuea. While it wouldn't be a job he would keep his entire life, it would no doubt be some of the most memorable work he'd ever do.
I decided that age had nothing to do with it, and that if possibilities like that one presented themselves, then I would consider those opportunities viable options, not just passing fancies. On top of that glacier, I became empowered to explore my sense of wonder.
So on that first Monday after my return home when I woke up, realized that my adventure was over and that I had to find a job, and started to feel panicked and depressed, I threw off that blanket of woolen wallow, and I plotted my survival and pending success with tangible goals.
I determined that it is a much more worthwhile voyage to discover your sense of wonder rather than to attempt to salvage a sense of worth that is tenuously arbitrated by someone else's fleeting notions and poorly informed decisions.
This was such a monumental moment of insight, personal growth, and potential that I decided to document it here. As long as I wasn't going to work for someone else and get paid for it, then I was going to work hard for myself and pay myself in strategies, memories, and personal productivity.
Everyday I would follow the same schedule:
Submit resumes and cover letters
Network with those who are more established in my field
Locate freelance opportunities
Open job search to all careers
Exercise
Organize and clean my house
Improve my lodgings
Keep in touch with friends
Pursue passions
Explore new vistas
Socialize daily or nightly
Travel as much as possible
Keeping a schedule, a list of goals, and list of daily tasks appealed to my sense of control, and gave me a daily schedule that would make me stay productive and positive. What's more is that if I were going to be faced with a lengthy unemployment status, then I would have the comfort of knowing that I did everything possible to improve my lot.
Making time for my hobbies (arts and travel) appealed to sense of passion.
Making time for relationships appealed to my sense of personal connection.
I decided I have but three pieces in life, and that I must treat them with all with the utmost and equal respect.
2007 was the darkest year I've ever had. Despite being surrounded by friends and family and doing some of the most extraordinary and spontaneous travel of my life, I was incredibly out of balance and drowning in negativity. When I look back on the year, I flinch remembering the profound pain and hopeless I felt. What a waste it seems now that these wonderful memories I managed to create during a dark time are tainted by the darkness itself.
--And so you put up your guard
And you try to be hard
But your heart says try again ---
This time, my determination to make this time worthwhile will be the sunray that will chase away those clouds and the candle that will illuminate my path.
I hereby promise myself and make this oath because this is it. One day I could be contemplating my various successes and happiness, and I could very well trace back everything good that's happened to this one bad thing that happened, this one bad thing that made me seek out better opportunities.
I promise me this. Today. In broad daylight.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Fake It Til You Make It
I'm working on a blog about my recent adventure to Washington, Alaska, and British Columbia, but it will be slow coming until I get a new computer that can read my new camera's software. I also left my travel journal on the plane so I lost all my notes about the trip. I've been trying to piece them back together, jotting down little memories, and already it's coming back to life for me!
Sometimes I have to be reminded to remember the good stuff. I guess that's pretty easy when you're doing something spectacular in a beautiful setting. But when you come back from an adventure and uncertainty looms in a familiar place, you have to work harder at it. You have to remember to Journey in Place.
I came back not knowing if I'd stay here or move on. Moving on had its attraction: new job, new place--old house in the country or a downtown loft??--new people, new scenery, new opportunities. But I felt more trepidation than excitement: putting a house on the market, figuring out the ramifications of moving would have on my relationship, saying goodbye to some true friends, losing my connections with writers, theaters, and musicians. I realized I felt trepidation because I felt like I would running away from some things in life that have left me a little empty inside.
I don't need to change my state of residence to leave behind the things that no longer fill me up. I have to believe that everything I need is right here; I just need the patience and wherewithal to find it. And I also need to focus on the good things I have here, which is basically the people in my life--the people who consciously choose to be in my life; the people who make time for me and look forward to seeing me. Those connections are strong and they took years to foster, and I think that walking away from them is akin to walking away from a fortune.
A few days after I returned from my trip, I slept til 12:30pm. Part exhaustion. Part depression. Partly based on the rainy weather. I felt dread when I woke up. I knew I was in trouble. I decided right then that I would treat every day of unemployment as a vacation day, meaning I would not waste, and I would not wallow.
I determined to set aside the first four hours of everyday looking for jobs, combing every website, job board, and network affiliate I could find. I'd begin reaching out to people in my field to tell them I was looking for new opportunities. I would be positive about learning new skills and facing fears with optimism. I would take on risks and challenges. And I would spend the rest of my day doing something useful around my house and something fun. I would clean closets, drawers, rooms, file cabinets, and work on my yard. I would work-out and exercise. I would hike in familiar places and remember what I loved about them. I would hike in new places and find something new to love. I would take in all the city has to offer. And finally, I would I see my friends again, one by one if necessary.
I got up out of bed, didn't bother to put on clothes, and applied for a few positions. I wrote different versions of my resume and my cover letter and I updated my LinkedIn profile. Check One. I felt a little stronger. I mowed my lawn. Check Two. I retrieved all my patio furniture and lanterns and candles from the garage and set up my deck. Things were looking up a bit. Freshly mowed grass and patio full of inviting furniture made me think of the barbecues I would host this summer. Check Three. Since I was already dirty, I reluctantly took a bike ride--I say reluctant because I really didn't feel like it. I was still forcing myself. That's okay. But I promised myself I would enjoy the time, even if I had to fake it. The sun finally came out in the early evening, and the newly minted summer air was fresh and gentle. I gained momentum, watching the skies clear in my little rear view mirror. "Just six miles," I kept telling myself. But as my feet pedaled, my spirits rose, and I wound up going ten miles. I got home just as the sun was setting. My favorite time of day, next to dawn. My favorite scene: long orange rays (it's too early in the year for the rays to be golden), fully formed leaves on trees that were just buds the last time I rode through these parts, kids playing outside. People were coming home from work and had another day of work to look forward to, but I was on vacation! Check Four!
And this is how it started. A simple plan, a simple schedule, and a good old saying: Fake it Til You Make It.f
I revisited my list of things I wanted to do in 2013 that I wrote back in December.
One of the items was go to a friend's Hemingway Party, which he throws every year on Hemingway's birthday in August. We read Hemingway stuff (he's actually not a favorite author of mine although I did visit his home in Key West and felt drawn to his persona), drink some whiskey, play some music.
I don't know if I wrote about this but my friend died in early April, right about the time I found out I was losing my job and that some rather health complications came up after some routine physicals. My friend committed suicide. I was devastated. I will write about this later. But when I saw the Hemingway thing, I realized how important it was that I was salvaging every bit of my life and not wasting time feeling sorry for myself for the loss of a job and for some people who had moved on from me. I must let them go on their journey, and I must stick to mine.
I made a new list. My summer list.
And so it has continued.
I spend every weekend with Larry. We treat each day like a little holiday, even if it's just a short bike ride or cracking open some craft brews and playing corn hole.
I will find a new job. I might have to reinvent myself. I might move up in the career I've been building for ten years. I might walk away from it and find happiness working at a place like Trader Joe's or Starbucks and becoming a poor but happy hippie. I have to be open to anything. I have to redefine success.
***Happiness does not come after success. It comes before it.***
And on the days I'm not feeling happy:
I'll Fake it Til I Make It!
I'm in a new place in my life. A place of potential change.
I will journey in this new place and will be paid in memories.
Memories are my current currency!
Please enjoy this beautiful song by my good friends kRi n hettie!
Last year, kRi n hettie and I created a music/cabaret show for IndyFringe called "Sirens: Chasin' the Sun." It was a hit and everyone felt it here -->
"Guest House"
Sometimes I have to be reminded to remember the good stuff. I guess that's pretty easy when you're doing something spectacular in a beautiful setting. But when you come back from an adventure and uncertainty looms in a familiar place, you have to work harder at it. You have to remember to Journey in Place.
I came back not knowing if I'd stay here or move on. Moving on had its attraction: new job, new place--old house in the country or a downtown loft??--new people, new scenery, new opportunities. But I felt more trepidation than excitement: putting a house on the market, figuring out the ramifications of moving would have on my relationship, saying goodbye to some true friends, losing my connections with writers, theaters, and musicians. I realized I felt trepidation because I felt like I would running away from some things in life that have left me a little empty inside.
I don't need to change my state of residence to leave behind the things that no longer fill me up. I have to believe that everything I need is right here; I just need the patience and wherewithal to find it. And I also need to focus on the good things I have here, which is basically the people in my life--the people who consciously choose to be in my life; the people who make time for me and look forward to seeing me. Those connections are strong and they took years to foster, and I think that walking away from them is akin to walking away from a fortune.
A few days after I returned from my trip, I slept til 12:30pm. Part exhaustion. Part depression. Partly based on the rainy weather. I felt dread when I woke up. I knew I was in trouble. I decided right then that I would treat every day of unemployment as a vacation day, meaning I would not waste, and I would not wallow.
I determined to set aside the first four hours of everyday looking for jobs, combing every website, job board, and network affiliate I could find. I'd begin reaching out to people in my field to tell them I was looking for new opportunities. I would be positive about learning new skills and facing fears with optimism. I would take on risks and challenges. And I would spend the rest of my day doing something useful around my house and something fun. I would clean closets, drawers, rooms, file cabinets, and work on my yard. I would work-out and exercise. I would hike in familiar places and remember what I loved about them. I would hike in new places and find something new to love. I would take in all the city has to offer. And finally, I would I see my friends again, one by one if necessary.
I got up out of bed, didn't bother to put on clothes, and applied for a few positions. I wrote different versions of my resume and my cover letter and I updated my LinkedIn profile. Check One. I felt a little stronger. I mowed my lawn. Check Two. I retrieved all my patio furniture and lanterns and candles from the garage and set up my deck. Things were looking up a bit. Freshly mowed grass and patio full of inviting furniture made me think of the barbecues I would host this summer. Check Three. Since I was already dirty, I reluctantly took a bike ride--I say reluctant because I really didn't feel like it. I was still forcing myself. That's okay. But I promised myself I would enjoy the time, even if I had to fake it. The sun finally came out in the early evening, and the newly minted summer air was fresh and gentle. I gained momentum, watching the skies clear in my little rear view mirror. "Just six miles," I kept telling myself. But as my feet pedaled, my spirits rose, and I wound up going ten miles. I got home just as the sun was setting. My favorite time of day, next to dawn. My favorite scene: long orange rays (it's too early in the year for the rays to be golden), fully formed leaves on trees that were just buds the last time I rode through these parts, kids playing outside. People were coming home from work and had another day of work to look forward to, but I was on vacation! Check Four!
And this is how it started. A simple plan, a simple schedule, and a good old saying: Fake it Til You Make It.f
I revisited my list of things I wanted to do in 2013 that I wrote back in December.
One of the items was go to a friend's Hemingway Party, which he throws every year on Hemingway's birthday in August. We read Hemingway stuff (he's actually not a favorite author of mine although I did visit his home in Key West and felt drawn to his persona), drink some whiskey, play some music.
I don't know if I wrote about this but my friend died in early April, right about the time I found out I was losing my job and that some rather health complications came up after some routine physicals. My friend committed suicide. I was devastated. I will write about this later. But when I saw the Hemingway thing, I realized how important it was that I was salvaging every bit of my life and not wasting time feeling sorry for myself for the loss of a job and for some people who had moved on from me. I must let them go on their journey, and I must stick to mine.
I made a new list. My summer list.
- Read as many books as possible
- Watch "summer" movies
- Go to Michigan
- Visit as many state parks as possible
- Go camping again!
- Go to an Indian's Game
- Go to a canal concert
- Go to Symphony on the Prairie
- Host a barbecue
- Go to Shakespeare in the Park
- Go on long bike rides
- Call friends
- Write
- Cook new healthy and delicious meals
- Save money
- Work on yard
- Work on house
- Listen to Moth radio hour
- Watch as many TED talks as possible
- Take care of my heart, mind, and body
- Heart: love people more
- Mind: commit to new ideas, new opportunities of positive expression, fill up on good things
- Body: run, pump, walk, cycle, work
And so it has continued.
I spend every weekend with Larry. We treat each day like a little holiday, even if it's just a short bike ride or cracking open some craft brews and playing corn hole.
I will find a new job. I might have to reinvent myself. I might move up in the career I've been building for ten years. I might walk away from it and find happiness working at a place like Trader Joe's or Starbucks and becoming a poor but happy hippie. I have to be open to anything. I have to redefine success.
***Happiness does not come after success. It comes before it.***
And on the days I'm not feeling happy:
I'll Fake it Til I Make It!
I'm in a new place in my life. A place of potential change.
I will journey in this new place and will be paid in memories.
Memories are my current currency!
Please enjoy this beautiful song by my good friends kRi n hettie!
Last year, kRi n hettie and I created a music/cabaret show for IndyFringe called "Sirens: Chasin' the Sun." It was a hit and everyone felt it here -->
"Guest House"
Everyday
Every single day
Everyday is an opportunity
Everyday is an opportunity
There’s a lot of time spent everyday
Just tryin to keep your head up
Goin thru the motion constant as the ocean
And it’s easy to get fed up when the whole world
Looks dead up like a tv show im not on
And on a channel that I don’t get
Its hard to worry bout the butter when the breads spread thin
So much comin and goin its hard to pretend
Emotions come and go like a guesthouse
Rumi says “let em in love em let em go”
repeat
Cause everyday is an opportunity
To forgive myself
Everyday is an opportunity
To reinvent myself
Everyday is an opportunity
To fall in love with myself
Everyday everyday every every every everyday
Now this is something that I gotta work on everyday
It didn’t come easily or naturally
But when I focus on the light I can be just as bright as I wanna be
Ya know people will try and take my light if I let em
But I don’t let em
I don’t let em
I avoid swamps of haters swarms of alligators circling for a bite
Tryin to rid me of my light
Ya cant rid me of my light cant rid me of my light cant rid me of my light
What you get is what you see the real face of me
Watchin what I think like I watch what I see
Real life reality tv
Real life reality tv
Real life reality tv
Cause every thought that I have every word that I speak every secret I tell
Every promise I keep is a reflection of me
And that’s all you can see
chorus
Bridge:
Cause every thought that I have
Every word that I speak
Every secret I tell
Every promise I keep
Cause every thought that I have
Every word that I speak
Every secret I tell
Every promise I keep
Is a reflection of me all that you can see is a reflection of me
All that you can see is a reflection of me all that you can see is a reflection of me
All that you can see
Cause every day is an opportunity to forgive myself
Everyday is an opportunity to reinvent myself
Everyday is an opportunity to fall in love with myself
Everyday every day every every every everyday
Everyday every day every day every day.
This song and lyrics are created by hettie mays and kri martin.
Every single day
Everyday is an opportunity
Everyday is an opportunity
There’s a lot of time spent everyday
Just tryin to keep your head up
Goin thru the motion constant as the ocean
And it’s easy to get fed up when the whole world
Looks dead up like a tv show im not on
And on a channel that I don’t get
Its hard to worry bout the butter when the breads spread thin
So much comin and goin its hard to pretend
Emotions come and go like a guesthouse
Rumi says “let em in love em let em go”
repeat
Cause everyday is an opportunity
To forgive myself
Everyday is an opportunity
To reinvent myself
Everyday is an opportunity
To fall in love with myself
Everyday everyday every every every everyday
Now this is something that I gotta work on everyday
It didn’t come easily or naturally
But when I focus on the light I can be just as bright as I wanna be
Ya know people will try and take my light if I let em
But I don’t let em
I don’t let em
I avoid swamps of haters swarms of alligators circling for a bite
Tryin to rid me of my light
Ya cant rid me of my light cant rid me of my light cant rid me of my light
What you get is what you see the real face of me
Watchin what I think like I watch what I see
Real life reality tv
Real life reality tv
Real life reality tv
Cause every thought that I have every word that I speak every secret I tell
Every promise I keep is a reflection of me
And that’s all you can see
chorus
Bridge:
Cause every thought that I have
Every word that I speak
Every secret I tell
Every promise I keep
Cause every thought that I have
Every word that I speak
Every secret I tell
Every promise I keep
Is a reflection of me all that you can see is a reflection of me
All that you can see is a reflection of me all that you can see is a reflection of me
All that you can see
Cause every day is an opportunity to forgive myself
Everyday is an opportunity to reinvent myself
Everyday is an opportunity to fall in love with myself
Everyday every day every every every everyday
Everyday every day every day every day.
This song and lyrics are created by hettie mays and kri martin.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Hamlet and The Clash Walk into a Bar
All I do is think, all I come up with is nothing.
Uncertainty 1, me 0.
I woke up today realizing that it's the first day of the rest of my life,
and I was filled with dread.
Yes, everyday is the first day of everybody's rest of their lives.
But some days it seems more so. MORE firster than say last Monday, when you woke up and had still had your job.
But today was the first day without my job.
I could have gone one of two ways.
Option 1: "Yow-ow, Funemployment!"
Option 2: "Yow-Ow! Foreclosure!"
Hamlet might have asked "To Be or not To Be?"
The Clash might have ventured Should I Stay or Should I Go?"
Me, I'm always asking both questions. I expanded my search and applied for a job in Madison, Wisconsin, of all places. I have never in my life even thought about Madison. It's Wisconsin, for God's Sake. Yes, I'm from MI and live in IN.
Wait a minute. What the heck am I making fun of?!
It's just that when you think of relocating, you don't think of doing so to the Midwest, especially when you already live in the Midwest.
However, as it turns out Madison is kind of a cool small 250,000 population kind of town. Liberal. College town. On a huge lake. Surrounded by state parks and forests. There are worse places to live. Maybe it's like a mini Minneapolis.
Oh wait, don't tell me that you don't know know that Minneapolis is a really cool city!
Well, it is!
My whole life, or rather for the past few years, I have had to make a concerted effort "To Be, Just Be," which I think negates the purpose of "Just Being." If you have to work that hard at it, you're not being, you're trying.
And as far as staying or going, well, I am reminded of this dream I had as a kid. My brother Chuck and I were on this epic foot journey in a strange landscape. We came across this platform that was electrically charged. If you walked across it, you would get electrocuted. If you ran too fast, you wouldn't feel anything. But if you dashed, sprightly and lightly, you would feel mini lightning bolts at your soles, and the charge would create a field so that your feet never quite touched the ground. We stayed here a long time, running back and forth, laughing.
In real life we never did that. Run or laugh.
Maybe sometime I'll get into that. Maybe not.
You gotta step just right, at just the right pace, and you have to be agile to feel the real charge.
Agile. I do Pilates and sometimes yoga, but how agile am I when it comes to uncertainty?
Not at all.
What has made me believe that I am entitled to certainty?
"You keep walking around like the world owes you something just because you're here. You're going out the way that you was when you first come here..."
Uncertainty 1, me 0.
I woke up today realizing that it's the first day of the rest of my life,
and I was filled with dread.
Yes, everyday is the first day of everybody's rest of their lives.
But some days it seems more so. MORE firster than say last Monday, when you woke up and had still had your job.
But today was the first day without my job.
I could have gone one of two ways.
Option 1: "Yow-ow, Funemployment!"
Option 2: "Yow-Ow! Foreclosure!"
Hamlet might have asked "To Be or not To Be?"
The Clash might have ventured Should I Stay or Should I Go?"
Me, I'm always asking both questions. I expanded my search and applied for a job in Madison, Wisconsin, of all places. I have never in my life even thought about Madison. It's Wisconsin, for God's Sake. Yes, I'm from MI and live in IN.
Wait a minute. What the heck am I making fun of?!
It's just that when you think of relocating, you don't think of doing so to the Midwest, especially when you already live in the Midwest.
However, as it turns out Madison is kind of a cool small 250,000 population kind of town. Liberal. College town. On a huge lake. Surrounded by state parks and forests. There are worse places to live. Maybe it's like a mini Minneapolis.
Oh wait, don't tell me that you don't know know that Minneapolis is a really cool city!
Well, it is!
My whole life, or rather for the past few years, I have had to make a concerted effort "To Be, Just Be," which I think negates the purpose of "Just Being." If you have to work that hard at it, you're not being, you're trying.
And as far as staying or going, well, I am reminded of this dream I had as a kid. My brother Chuck and I were on this epic foot journey in a strange landscape. We came across this platform that was electrically charged. If you walked across it, you would get electrocuted. If you ran too fast, you wouldn't feel anything. But if you dashed, sprightly and lightly, you would feel mini lightning bolts at your soles, and the charge would create a field so that your feet never quite touched the ground. We stayed here a long time, running back and forth, laughing.
In real life we never did that. Run or laugh.
Maybe sometime I'll get into that. Maybe not.
You gotta step just right, at just the right pace, and you have to be agile to feel the real charge.
Agile. I do Pilates and sometimes yoga, but how agile am I when it comes to uncertainty?
Not at all.
What has made me believe that I am entitled to certainty?
"You keep walking around like the world owes you something just because you're here. You're going out the way that you was when you first come here..."
Respect Yourself
And then there's the sweet, peaceful Rodriguez, who actually has a different response:
"Cause they told me everybody gotta pay their dues, and I explained that I had overpaid them."
It's true. I got up. I put this record on. I made some coffee. I made a plan.
My plan went like this.
Treat this like a vacation. You would never waste a day of vacation. You would never be sad when on vacation.
So today was my first day of summer vacation. The first thing I did was say to Despair, "Not now, I'm busy."
I detailed my car.
I have never done that. I got out the Murphy's Oil Soap. I got the Windex. I got my Dyson.
My ride is tight and clean. And that ain't half bad.
Then I mowed my lawn. My crabtree is in full bloom, and the winds were scattering the white petals, like giant snowflakes on green grass.
Then I took my dog on a really long walk and I listened to some Replacements
...Look me in the eye and tell me that I'm satisfied...
And some Patty Griffin
...different colored doorways, you thought would let you in one day....
And then I started packing.
For the first leg of a journey.
A journey in another place.
I've got a big journey ahead of me later this month, but I decided to start early and add a new leg.
I'm going camping tomorrow. To the hills and valleys of the Ohio River to Clifty Falls.
I got my tent, my sleeping bag, my Coleman stove, some marshmallows, a book, my camera, a notebook, my hiking shoes. And I'm leaving tomorrow, and the next day, birds will be my alarm clock.
I know nothing about this place.
An unplanned journey.
Socrates was wrong.
The planned journey is unworth taking.
It's not famous.
It might not even be spectacular.
It doesn't have to be.
I have to be.
See you in a few days.
I hope I don't recognize me.
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We never found a lighthouse in Miami Beach or all of the Keys! Key Biscayne was "closed for repairs." Key West was by reservation...
