All is not what it seems. Sometimes, reality is like a hall of mirrors. Intrigues multiply like summer flies, and there are signs of discontent all around. This is a time of illusion and disillusion, disintegration, distrust and deception.
When you find yourself trapped in a hall of mirrors, sometimes it is necessary to retrace your steps. Return to the familiar; take solace in what is firm and secure. There is no blame in holding back on progress now; indeed, it is your responsibility to keep your strength intact for the period of resurrection, which follows disintegration as surely as dawn follows the night.
Discretion is the better part of valor. Good timing is especially important. Learn to focus on the essence of the problem and choose the proper moments for action, thereby avoiding futile effort. Be particularly attentive at such a time as this for changes that signal it's time to retreat.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your own heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth. It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house. It is to sow the seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit. It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit. And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you watching.
Work is love made visible. And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy. For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter loaf that feeds but half a man's hunger.
-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet: 26 poetic essays
Work is love made visible. And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy. For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter loaf that feeds but half a man's hunger.
-Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet: 26 poetic essays
Monday, November 16, 2009
Moving forward
Sat. November 14th Horoscope: You can make a very practical decision today that has profound consequences, yet others might not see the logic to your choice. It may seem as if you are being impulsive now, but you have been seriously thinking about your situation for a while, unable to tip the scales one way or the other. Don't worry if your uncertainty returns, for this is all part of an ongoing process.
I really hate it when horoscopes match up to life exactly. It seems like an argument for determinism over free choice. And I suppose this one wasn't exact, since I was only considering a decision seriously at that point, and hadn't made it yet.
Most of you have heard my whining/complaining/horror stories about my current job. I'm not getting into specifics, but suffice it to say that the job has been a very bad fit for me. Some of you have pointed out, and I will agree, that my complaints have echoes of past positions. I think the whole thing pretty significantly mirrors many situations in my past. It's a pattern that I've found myself in over and over again. One component of the pattern is that I was raised to accept abuse, and that I have done that with job situations, too.
I have been in job situations where I was taken advantage of in many ways, and I was too afraid to stick up for myself. That is my pattern. And I am not ready to do that anymore. Add to that an atmosphere that is much more disorganized and demoralized than anything I have ever experienced (and I have experienced some pretty petty and dysfunctional environments) and I think you can see where this is going. It's a soul killing experience to work in an environment that is this toxic.
My situation exists because of choices I made from fear and from scarcity. I decided on library science because it seemed like a safe and stable career choice, not because it was my passion. I had begun to realize this toward the end of my degree, but by then, it seemed too late, and I was afraid to admit that I'd made a mistake. Still, I don't regret the time in Indiana. And I don't regret trying this job. Both experiences have really clarified what I've know since I was very young - my passion lies with words, with writing and books. I want to teach classes in children's literature, in literature, in writing. I want to write novels. I want to be in an academic atmosphere. Through my library science degree and my job, I've found that I like teaching, and I have moved past a lot of my nervousness at getting up in front of people. I like teaching at a higher level of competency - to students who already have some knowledge and background. I want to teach at the college level. I want to do research and write scholarly articles. I want a life where I'm happy to wake up in the morning and make a contribution to the world, where I add something good that only I can add, where I use the skills and talents that I have been given.
I'm tired of doing something I can do, but that someone else could do better and with more passion. I'm tired of defaulting to survival mode. I'm tired of listening to the critical, self-hating voices that still live in my head. I'm tired of working for a bully, in an environment where stress is running rampant. I'm tired of living with the uncertainty from day to day of trying to guess what might keep the director happy. This was my life growing up - keeping my stepfather happy, keeping him from blowing up. I think I deserve more. And I know I can contribute more to the world than what I am right now. And I can see that making choices from fear put me right back in a place and situation that are based on fear. My whole life, I have danced around what I wanted, because I was afraid to claim that fulfillment for my own. I have gotten degrees that came close, taken jobs that were on the edge of what I wanted, taken small steps in the right direction, and then turned away because of fear, because the voices of fear and self-hatred were stronger. I have lived my life with the core belief that I am not enough. That's shifted over time, slowly, oh so slowly, so that I am ready to try to believe that I am who and what I am, for better or worse, and that I deserve as much as anyone else.
My decision now is to make choices from love, starting with choosing to do what I love so I can add more love to the world. I have felt closed down, oppressed, squashed, fearful, under siege with my choices in my current job. I'm going to move in a direction that lets me feel the opposite, in hopes that those feelings will lead me down the right path, until I can see clearly where it is that I need to go. Meanwhile, I am applying for teaching positions at community colleges and small colleges. I am writing again, albeit slowly and limpingly. And I am going to talk to the director about the situation, even though I'm not sure where that conversation will take me. At the very least, this time, in a situation that echoes so many others from my past, I will have done SOMETHING, and no matter the outcome, just that step will be enough.
I really hate it when horoscopes match up to life exactly. It seems like an argument for determinism over free choice. And I suppose this one wasn't exact, since I was only considering a decision seriously at that point, and hadn't made it yet.
Most of you have heard my whining/complaining/horror stories about my current job. I'm not getting into specifics, but suffice it to say that the job has been a very bad fit for me. Some of you have pointed out, and I will agree, that my complaints have echoes of past positions. I think the whole thing pretty significantly mirrors many situations in my past. It's a pattern that I've found myself in over and over again. One component of the pattern is that I was raised to accept abuse, and that I have done that with job situations, too.
I have been in job situations where I was taken advantage of in many ways, and I was too afraid to stick up for myself. That is my pattern. And I am not ready to do that anymore. Add to that an atmosphere that is much more disorganized and demoralized than anything I have ever experienced (and I have experienced some pretty petty and dysfunctional environments) and I think you can see where this is going. It's a soul killing experience to work in an environment that is this toxic.
My situation exists because of choices I made from fear and from scarcity. I decided on library science because it seemed like a safe and stable career choice, not because it was my passion. I had begun to realize this toward the end of my degree, but by then, it seemed too late, and I was afraid to admit that I'd made a mistake. Still, I don't regret the time in Indiana. And I don't regret trying this job. Both experiences have really clarified what I've know since I was very young - my passion lies with words, with writing and books. I want to teach classes in children's literature, in literature, in writing. I want to write novels. I want to be in an academic atmosphere. Through my library science degree and my job, I've found that I like teaching, and I have moved past a lot of my nervousness at getting up in front of people. I like teaching at a higher level of competency - to students who already have some knowledge and background. I want to teach at the college level. I want to do research and write scholarly articles. I want a life where I'm happy to wake up in the morning and make a contribution to the world, where I add something good that only I can add, where I use the skills and talents that I have been given.
I'm tired of doing something I can do, but that someone else could do better and with more passion. I'm tired of defaulting to survival mode. I'm tired of listening to the critical, self-hating voices that still live in my head. I'm tired of working for a bully, in an environment where stress is running rampant. I'm tired of living with the uncertainty from day to day of trying to guess what might keep the director happy. This was my life growing up - keeping my stepfather happy, keeping him from blowing up. I think I deserve more. And I know I can contribute more to the world than what I am right now. And I can see that making choices from fear put me right back in a place and situation that are based on fear. My whole life, I have danced around what I wanted, because I was afraid to claim that fulfillment for my own. I have gotten degrees that came close, taken jobs that were on the edge of what I wanted, taken small steps in the right direction, and then turned away because of fear, because the voices of fear and self-hatred were stronger. I have lived my life with the core belief that I am not enough. That's shifted over time, slowly, oh so slowly, so that I am ready to try to believe that I am who and what I am, for better or worse, and that I deserve as much as anyone else.
My decision now is to make choices from love, starting with choosing to do what I love so I can add more love to the world. I have felt closed down, oppressed, squashed, fearful, under siege with my choices in my current job. I'm going to move in a direction that lets me feel the opposite, in hopes that those feelings will lead me down the right path, until I can see clearly where it is that I need to go. Meanwhile, I am applying for teaching positions at community colleges and small colleges. I am writing again, albeit slowly and limpingly. And I am going to talk to the director about the situation, even though I'm not sure where that conversation will take me. At the very least, this time, in a situation that echoes so many others from my past, I will have done SOMETHING, and no matter the outcome, just that step will be enough.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Death of an air mattress, NaNoWriMo, and other odds and ends
Sadly, I have to report that the air mattress functioning as my bed has joined my laptop in some sort of cosmic strike. Both have ceased to exist; they are no more. I woke up this morning partially on the floor and surrounded by some pathetic sort of airy parts of the mattress (basically I was surrounded by a partially inflated mattress).
Fortunately, Irene (who has loaned me all other furniture in my apartment) has a camping pad and a feather bed, so.... until I can get some sort of bed replacement, I will truly be camping in the apartment.
Since today is the start of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and since I will be cranking out a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, I won't have a lot of time to care about where I'm sleeping, when I am actually sleeping and not writing. It will be interesting to do this without a computer of my own. I have been lucky enough to borrow one here and there, so that helps. I may be using the public access computers at the public library, and elsewhere throughout town.
At least I've been lucky enough to be reminded of what's really important in life. Stuff is just stuff. Granted, some stuff makes life much easier and more comfortable (like a bed!), but it's good to know that I can exist without it, if I have to, I guess.
So, the novel I'm working on is set in a small, conservative mining town in Montana, in a library. The main character is a liberal librarian new to the profession. Gee, gosh, any resemblance to any one living or dead is purely a coincidence. I do want the t-shirt Sara once found for me, though. "Careful, or you'll end up in my novel." Not that it would really happen...... or would it? I guess we'll all find out 50,000 words and 29 days from now. Perhaps writers do have the best form of revenge.
In other news, since life is short, and looking even shorter at 50, I have officially decided to apply to PhD programs for fall. I have contacted a Montana university about teaching children's literature online as an part-time, adjunct faculty member. I haven't heard back, but wish me luck. I'll keep you all posted.
Fortunately, Irene (who has loaned me all other furniture in my apartment) has a camping pad and a feather bed, so.... until I can get some sort of bed replacement, I will truly be camping in the apartment.
Since today is the start of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and since I will be cranking out a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, I won't have a lot of time to care about where I'm sleeping, when I am actually sleeping and not writing. It will be interesting to do this without a computer of my own. I have been lucky enough to borrow one here and there, so that helps. I may be using the public access computers at the public library, and elsewhere throughout town.
At least I've been lucky enough to be reminded of what's really important in life. Stuff is just stuff. Granted, some stuff makes life much easier and more comfortable (like a bed!), but it's good to know that I can exist without it, if I have to, I guess.
So, the novel I'm working on is set in a small, conservative mining town in Montana, in a library. The main character is a liberal librarian new to the profession. Gee, gosh, any resemblance to any one living or dead is purely a coincidence. I do want the t-shirt Sara once found for me, though. "Careful, or you'll end up in my novel." Not that it would really happen...... or would it? I guess we'll all find out 50,000 words and 29 days from now. Perhaps writers do have the best form of revenge.
In other news, since life is short, and looking even shorter at 50, I have officially decided to apply to PhD programs for fall. I have contacted a Montana university about teaching children's literature online as an part-time, adjunct faculty member. I haven't heard back, but wish me luck. I'll keep you all posted.
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