See this picture? See that red blob in the middle of the frame? That's a bird - a real, live bird called a vermilion flycatcher. I saw him 2 weeks ago near a local spring.
See how bright he is - how clearly he stands out against his surroundings? Do you ever wish for this kind of clarity in your own life? I know I do.
I am in a "transitional place" in life. While I am beginning to suspect that every place in life is, in fact, transitional, I also know that not having much of a clue anymore about what I want from one crucial aspect of life can be very disorienting. In a "zone" of my life in which there used to be such clarity and fire, now there is only silence and vast openness...and I don't know what to make of it. Sometimes that silence feels refreshing, like a wide-open New Mexico blue sky - infinite room for possibility. Sometimes, the dead-quiet and emptiness feel like the look I got from a local hotel clerk the night I moved to Carlsbad; when we asked how much for a room, she just stared at us blankly, mouth awkwardly agape, for what seemed like a solid 60 seconds. (She finally pointed us to a heavily-under-construction dining room, where the hotel's owner barked an absurd price at us from the rubble.) This second kind of silence is uncomfortable - you feel like you're missing something. Valuable seconds of your life expire and amass in a mounting scrap-heap as you wait for the faintest sign of recognition on the other end.
I long for clarity.
And so, I made 2 lists. The impulse arose during my work day 2 weeks back. Don't tell anyone - but, I transcribed these thoughts on the spot. I know it's unethical ("on the clock" and all), but it didn't take long...and this felt like a lightning bolt of crazy-wisdom from some secret pocket of the universe. Somewhere, a zipper unzipped and this moment of clarity fell out, in the form of a list-making game. My gut said, act now, or lose this tiny guiding light. I heeded.
The impulse was: start with what you don't want (always easier, it seems), and what you know, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Crumbs count.
Here goes:
Don’t Want
I don’t want to sell anyone anything
I don’t want to convince anyone
I don’t want to prove anything to anyone
I don’t want to seek approval from anyone or anything (entity, institution, field…)
I don’t want a 5-year plan
I don’t want to live like I have the answers
I don’t want to reduce my identity to a formula, a phrase, a slogan
I don’t’ want to speak words I think someone wants to hear, if they are not words I feel moved to speak
I don’t want to perform (unless I do, unless it’s for fun)
I don’t want to apologize for not conforming to friends’ ethics or belief systems
I don’t want to apologize for my complexity or contradictions
I don’t want to want to be right
I don’t want to let resistance to things that merit resisting, keep me from doing things I really want to do, but that are somehow connected to what I’m resisting
I don’t want to pretend like I know what the **** others mean, when I really don’t
I don’t want The Perfect Life
I don’t want A Dream Job, because I don’t know what that is
I don’t want to be rich
I don’t want to feel stuck
I don’t want to hesitate about being honest, out of fear that what I have to say may upset, offend, not jive with my friends’ beliefs
I don’t want the time I spend engaging with screens to exceed the time I spend engaging with the actual, sensory world
I don’t want my pineapple sage plant to die.
Know
I know that when I get to work in the morning, and make the fateful walk from car door to office door, I want nothing more than to drive to the hills and lay outside for hours in the sun, blank mind and action-less.
I know that my body was not designed to sit in one place for 9-12 hours a day.
I know that it feels right to stand on a riverbank at dusk, in the incongruous costume of work clothes, watching pelicans, herons, and egrets float, hunt, and soar while fish plop madly at the water’s surface.
I know I love the way dusk drains the color from the world and feeds that color to the sunset.
I know that planting a garden, no matter how small, feels sane and redemptive.
I know that the smell of rain in the desert is worth staying up late to encounter.
I know that there probably is no Dream Job.
I know that money isn’t the real issue.
I know that the root of the problem is both more complicated, and simpler, than I tell myself it is when I’m feeling frustrated.
I know that life has gotten harder and better as I’ve grown older.
I know that I am confused.
I know that I am not proud of feeling envy.
I know that the envy I feel points me back to unanswered questions about my own life.
I know that I wish I could give all my student debt back.
I know that most of what I thought I wanted, no longer registers on my radar.
I know that spring is erotic.
I know that the smell of lilacs in the dark is heaven on earth.
I know it is (past) time for bed.
(...Oh, and as the last line belies, I continued this list-making game at home that night.)
In coming back to this list after 2 weeks, I feel surprised by how much its contents still resonate, and seem to etch the beginnings of a path forward...I share it in the spirit of embracing not-knowing, and in the spirit of sharing the tools that help us inch forward, no matter how curious the tools, and no matter how incremental the inching may be.
See how bright he is - how clearly he stands out against his surroundings? Do you ever wish for this kind of clarity in your own life? I know I do.
I am in a "transitional place" in life. While I am beginning to suspect that every place in life is, in fact, transitional, I also know that not having much of a clue anymore about what I want from one crucial aspect of life can be very disorienting. In a "zone" of my life in which there used to be such clarity and fire, now there is only silence and vast openness...and I don't know what to make of it. Sometimes that silence feels refreshing, like a wide-open New Mexico blue sky - infinite room for possibility. Sometimes, the dead-quiet and emptiness feel like the look I got from a local hotel clerk the night I moved to Carlsbad; when we asked how much for a room, she just stared at us blankly, mouth awkwardly agape, for what seemed like a solid 60 seconds. (She finally pointed us to a heavily-under-construction dining room, where the hotel's owner barked an absurd price at us from the rubble.) This second kind of silence is uncomfortable - you feel like you're missing something. Valuable seconds of your life expire and amass in a mounting scrap-heap as you wait for the faintest sign of recognition on the other end.
I long for clarity.
And so, I made 2 lists. The impulse arose during my work day 2 weeks back. Don't tell anyone - but, I transcribed these thoughts on the spot. I know it's unethical ("on the clock" and all), but it didn't take long...and this felt like a lightning bolt of crazy-wisdom from some secret pocket of the universe. Somewhere, a zipper unzipped and this moment of clarity fell out, in the form of a list-making game. My gut said, act now, or lose this tiny guiding light. I heeded.
The impulse was: start with what you don't want (always easier, it seems), and what you know, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Crumbs count.
Here goes:
Don’t Want
I don’t want to sell anyone anything
I don’t want to convince anyone
I don’t want to prove anything to anyone
I don’t want to seek approval from anyone or anything (entity, institution, field…)
I don’t want a 5-year plan
I don’t want to live like I have the answers
I don’t want to reduce my identity to a formula, a phrase, a slogan
I don’t’ want to speak words I think someone wants to hear, if they are not words I feel moved to speak
I don’t want to perform (unless I do, unless it’s for fun)
I don’t want to apologize for not conforming to friends’ ethics or belief systems
I don’t want to apologize for my complexity or contradictions
I don’t want to want to be right
I don’t want to let resistance to things that merit resisting, keep me from doing things I really want to do, but that are somehow connected to what I’m resisting
I don’t want to pretend like I know what the **** others mean, when I really don’t
I don’t want The Perfect Life
I don’t want A Dream Job, because I don’t know what that is
I don’t want to be rich
I don’t want to feel stuck
I don’t want to hesitate about being honest, out of fear that what I have to say may upset, offend, not jive with my friends’ beliefs
I don’t want the time I spend engaging with screens to exceed the time I spend engaging with the actual, sensory world
I don’t want my pineapple sage plant to die.
Know
I know that when I get to work in the morning, and make the fateful walk from car door to office door, I want nothing more than to drive to the hills and lay outside for hours in the sun, blank mind and action-less.
I know that my body was not designed to sit in one place for 9-12 hours a day.
I know that it feels right to stand on a riverbank at dusk, in the incongruous costume of work clothes, watching pelicans, herons, and egrets float, hunt, and soar while fish plop madly at the water’s surface.
I know I love the way dusk drains the color from the world and feeds that color to the sunset.
I know that planting a garden, no matter how small, feels sane and redemptive.
I know that the smell of rain in the desert is worth staying up late to encounter.
I know that there probably is no Dream Job.
I know that money isn’t the real issue.
I know that the root of the problem is both more complicated, and simpler, than I tell myself it is when I’m feeling frustrated.
I know that life has gotten harder and better as I’ve grown older.
I know that I am confused.
I know that I am not proud of feeling envy.
I know that the envy I feel points me back to unanswered questions about my own life.
I know that I wish I could give all my student debt back.
I know that most of what I thought I wanted, no longer registers on my radar.
I know that spring is erotic.
I know that the smell of lilacs in the dark is heaven on earth.
I know it is (past) time for bed.
(...Oh, and as the last line belies, I continued this list-making game at home that night.)
In coming back to this list after 2 weeks, I feel surprised by how much its contents still resonate, and seem to etch the beginnings of a path forward...I share it in the spirit of embracing not-knowing, and in the spirit of sharing the tools that help us inch forward, no matter how curious the tools, and no matter how incremental the inching may be.