Oct 2006

When I finally went outside today, the sky was grey and low, like it was going to snow. I'd been sitting inside all day feeling sorry for myself so I was cold and a bit on the achy side. There I was, outside, on this cold, grey, achy day when I saw this black-eyed susan and I thought how everything about her is beauty and light and here I am, somewhere dismal and bleak without her. And the tears started to catch in my throat. I got halfway to my car with my jaw clenched tight and my eyes narrowed against the perpetual flood of grief, when I realized: I could see the sky. And I looked around and I saw the clouds, low and grey, sloping down to hills with houses carved into them and roads crisscrossing the thick green flesh as far as my weepy little eyes could see and I thought: This is only New Jersey!

You have my heart.

So, as I was saying, this undertaking has been labeled "zen" by some and that couldn't be farther from the truth. The fact is, this is the stupidest, most frenetic, out of control thing I've ever done. SO not zen! People think I'm abandoning all my belongings. In reality, I've packed everything I own into a chevy. People think, I don't know, I'll be medititating the whole time or something, like I'll just throw my car on cruise control, sit all full-lotus on my zabuton (which is totally in the back seat, thank you very much) and just go out there chanting "OM" the whole damn way. Yeah, not so much.
Okay, so, I'll admit, a good part of this endeavor is an attempt to crush this insane drive to succeed. That's right, my goal is failure or, okay, no it's not. Really, though, my goal is to not have a goal and I guess, after all, that is a little bit zen. And impossible. Didja catch that? My goal is to not have a goal. No wonder I'm having such a hard time. I'm working on not getting so wrapped up in where I'm going that I sabotage where I am. There have been a number of occasions as of late where I've gotten so worked up that I was experiencing something for the last time that I've actually ruined the experience. No one wants your coffee when you're crying.
So what's a late twenty-something chick to do with herself when she's realized she's spent several years on an accidental career only to find herself adrift in seemingly endless possibility, none of which are remotely appealing? Well, simple: try as hard as she can to eradicate the desire and competitiveness that drove her to that accidental career in the first place. I mean, really, what is this need for success than an attempt to fill some deep chasm within ourselves? Some self-aggrandizing pile construction so that one can climb all the way up to the tipity top and shout to everyone around, "look how good I did."? I mean, I don't want to feel like a failure, in and of myself or in front of other people either but I'm begining to think that maybe it's not my job (or current lack thereof) that determines whether or not people see me as such. I mean, what if I'm more than my job, more than who I'm sleeping with, more than my apartment (hope so, I don't have one) or my car? Then I suppose that means I'll have to work on myself, you know, wear more makeup or something. That and start taking life one day at a time. Or, maybe, a bit more to the point, one mile at a time. I'm off tomorrow morning, wish me luck, or unending prosperity.