Tag: work

Turning Point

How I love early mornings. Around 6 AM is ideal. This sacred state can usually last up until somewhere close to 8 AM.

I love the birdsong behind our house. We have a scruffy patch of untouched forest where committees of birds consort every morning to plot and plant their day. Or so it seems.

Lately, a murder of crows has taken up residence in the remaining live oaks behind us. I don’t actually know how large a group of crows has to be to be a “murder” but there is a bunch.

Straight out of birdworld central casting, they caw incessantly. Sometimes in unison and at other times, a single crow with a particularly large and booming caw rings out over the others.

The crows occasionally fly away in unison on whatever mission they have decided is necessary. I am struck by how little I know about birds as I listen to them and watch their aeronautic displays. It piques my curiosity.

I love early morning when it is quiet and the only voice I have to listen to is the voice in my own head. Uninterrupted by abrasive external distractions, I can enjoy my own sense of peace and calm.

I hear garbage trucks way off in the distance. A small aircraft buzzes by overhead. There is traffic way, way off in the distance. Soon cars will start up around me as neighbors head off to their jobs. I am no longer part of that morning migration and I am so grateful that is so.

Yesterday, I wrote what was for me a fairly disturbing post about an art installation replicating our collective Sisyphean task of chasing money to sustain our lives with increasingly diminishing returns until we die. I used to be acutely aware that there was an inherently unbalanced tradeoff between time and money in my life and that of others.

When I had enough free time to pursue personal interests, I rarely had enough money to freely do so. When I was employed and earning money, the time I needed to pursue personal interests was eliminated. A devil’s bargain.

I am at a stage where I am resetting my goals. I am no longer convinced I will write the Great North American novel or bank countless millions with which to address the world’s ills. In truth, I never really had those goals but, at least when I was younger, they seemed attainable. Of course, almost everything seems possible when you are young.

I have come to one simple conclusion for my future direction. My life, my rules. I fervently pray (and hopefully believe) I will never have to work at a boring and unfulfilling job again. I grieve for the people that do. I grieve that I had to for so long.

I will no longer “dress to impress” anonymous others whom I hope may look kindly upon me and bestow some favor or another – financial or emotional.

I will no longer be silent or cagey in the face of outrageous circumstances. Strategic maybe, but not cagey. Life has taught me the truth of that you can attract more flies with honey than vinegar … if it is flies that you are out to attract, of course. And for the life of me, I can’t imagine why one would.

This is a time of transition in my life unlike so many other transitions that preceded it. Life used to feel like having a bolt of fabric from which you could endlessly pick patterns and play with design and create costumes ad infinitum. Now I know the bolt of cloth I was handed is not infinite. Going forward, I must pick and choose the patterns and designs much more carefully and wisely.

Even these thoughts about my future are just forming. So much that used to drive my ambition and thinking has ebbed away. I am not as angry or tortured as I once was. I am wiser. I have made immutable choices in career, children and partner which have created a clearly boundaried paddock within which I will live out the rest of my life. Best make it the best it can be for me and my loved ones.

Dangers abound on the road ahead [like they always did] but so does adventure. And learning. And friendship. Blessed friendship. There are so many people without whom I would not be here today.

It is the harvest time in my life. To reflect on where I’ve been more deeply than where I’m going. To appreciate what went right and forgive myself and others for what went wrong. And for the most part, most of it no longer matters.

In a hundred years, it will matter to no one, except in one way. The external dragons and internal demons I’ve slayed will be a lesser threat to my children and theirs and the children of my great grandchildren ad inifinitum. I hope.

Knowing this in my bones has, if for no other reason, made all of the struggle worthwhile.

Playing The Long Game

Many people are searching for “the meaning of life.” It is the biggest of all mysteries. The big question seeks an answer: “Why are we here?” Ultimately solving that mystery comes down to finding an answer that makes sense to us. We learn what matters to us by how we spend our days and find meaning in doing what we love. Spending time in a way that generates consistent rewards and satisfaction is our challenge and life’s work.

Each day, most of us get up, make coffee, pull out our daily “to-do” lists, and saddle up. I used to moan about going to jobs I didn’t like until I came across this reframing: “We don’t have to do this. We GET to do it.”

I learned that every menial, boring, petty job I had prepared me for something else. I was a demonstrator at Walmart as a teenager. I showed the public the great merits of Duralex glasses, spray-on shoeshine, and mandoline food slicers.

I learned the fine art of “salespersonship/manipulation.” I was taught to make a small pyramid out of 8-ounce Duralex drinking glasses. I’d put them in a stiff cardboard box with four sides: three glasses at the bottom, then two, with one on top. Sort of like a teeny-tiny cheerleading squad formation.

I would hand customers a soft rubber ball inviting them to “knock the pyramid down” “to prove their durability. “See?” I would chortle. “They are unbreakable,” Except when they weren’t. One or more of the glasses might shatter and occasionally they did break into little pieces. I would quickly dive in with my backup pitch.

“See? They do not break into shards like ordinary glass. They shatter into small pieces. Like a car windshield. They are so much safer than other glasses. Imagine how they would protect your family? Especially the little ones?” Duralex glasses flew off the shelf. No one wants their precious babies getting nasty and preventable cuts.

It took years to accept what humility has taught me. There were many jobs I took but I felt were “beneath me.” Some were. And others underutilized my capabilities. I eventually learned “How you do anything is how you do everything.”

Human resources types generally like to see a seamless work history with few gaps in a resume, for example. Employers are wary of workforce-age adults taking any more than two weeks a year out from employment to pursue something “frivolous” like travel. Any gap during my working years was judged as suspicious.

I worked for a manager in the federal government who had joined its ranks at 17 years old. He signed up right out of high school and had no post-secondary education. He never traveled farther away than his nearby cottage.

He took no courses except those that were necessary to keep up his job skills. He retired in his mid-50s with a full government pension and then got himself rehired as a consultant at an exorbitant daily rate. Double dipping it is called. Good planning I call it.

I know me and doubt I could have taken that route even if the opportunity had been presented. The term soul-crushing exists for a reason. I look back with gratitude at the many breaks and deviations from my work path. I wrote stories and sometimes they paid for my trip. My writing credentials got me into high-ticket conferences for free. I was exposed to great learning and then got paid for it. That was sweet.

I have landed in a place of security and stability and age-appropriate adventure. Travel was always worth it. Wise people advise you to focus on cultivating relationships with your friends and family as you live your life. At the end, they are what really matters.

The career, the fancy job titles, and the status and prestige may all dry up and blow away. Then you are left with only yourself and with your loved ones. If you are lucky.

So if your workstyle is Type A, overachieving, or workaholic, sit down and have a little chat with yourself and maybe ask why. Those sales stats and successful cases aren’t going to bring you a cup of tea when it most matters. Somewhere along the way, I feel I was lucky enough to have learned that.

Relying on “work” to stick with you for the duration isn’t realistic to count on. I think I started to learn that right around the time I learned the duplicitous claims of Duralex glasses “unbreakability.” The other claim I have refuted is that a secure if soul-deadening, nine-to-five job is the best path for everyone. If I hadn’t taken that dumb job at Walmart, I wouldn’t have had this story to tell.