I want time to explore myself, my world and my emotion. I do not want to rush of to work in, sit under neon lights all day and rush home, tired and irritated. A part of me questions myself. “Do I think about this too much, am I incapable of happiness because I always find something to be discontented about, should I be happy to have a job a good salary, someones to come home to?”
I don’t know. But today I do not care. I want to be playing with my dogs, rolling on the grass, spending time rediscovering F. I don’t want to be doing the clinical assessment use case. I don’t care about the business goals, the triggers the assumptions and business flows. I want to live and laugh and swim.
My chest feels like there is a rock expanding within it, my eyes are prickling, my entire body is screaming let me out of this office where people are discussing database schemas.
But part of being grown-up is taking a deep breath and getting on with it. Because I get paid to do this and the money pays for everything else.
But one day soon, I will have the time to grow my own vegetables, live in my cob house, study the tarot, have a baby, take my dogs to the beach, study further, update my blog with long poems, write a script, and finish the painting I have been busy with for the last three years. How do I know this? I know this because I am hunting, every day, for a job that I only need to work at three days a week. And it will happen next year. Why? Because I want it so much that the yearning in my heart turns into a magician’s hand. This hand is building my future, carefully crafting the future I dream of, gently smoothing the clay, turning it around and around to make sure all the curves are supporting each other.
I don’t know. But today I do not care. I want to be playing with my dogs, rolling on the grass, spending time rediscovering F. I don’t want to be doing the clinical assessment use case. I don’t care about the business goals, the triggers the assumptions and business flows. I want to live and laugh and swim.
My chest feels like there is a rock expanding within it, my eyes are prickling, my entire body is screaming let me out of this office where people are discussing database schemas.
But part of being grown-up is taking a deep breath and getting on with it. Because I get paid to do this and the money pays for everything else.
But one day soon, I will have the time to grow my own vegetables, live in my cob house, study the tarot, have a baby, take my dogs to the beach, study further, update my blog with long poems, write a script, and finish the painting I have been busy with for the last three years. How do I know this? I know this because I am hunting, every day, for a job that I only need to work at three days a week. And it will happen next year. Why? Because I want it so much that the yearning in my heart turns into a magician’s hand. This hand is building my future, carefully crafting the future I dream of, gently smoothing the clay, turning it around and around to make sure all the curves are supporting each other.
2 comments:
One of the things about modern life that just bite is that people have no time to be anymore. There is work, chores and sleep, bringing home money you don't get to enjoy because there is always bills everywhere. There is a head full of "One day I will" ideas, and there is the rat race. If you are not careful, you start thinking this is how life should be.
And it is not. I have no desire to own a trendy bit of property ( mere mortals cannot own big chunks of property, only tiny little places ) in a big city anymore. The cost of living is too high - and I'm not talking only about the money here. I'm happy to be out here in a little city of 390 000 or so souls, where you can drive accross town in about 20 minutes ( 15 if the lights are timing properly, which they mostly are here in America ), and where people are going home at four or at five, depending on when they started working, but the "peak" traffic is a little flash that is over within five or so minutes. There is plenty of good shops within a few minutes' drive, people are polite, people have time for each other. People are friendly. That has become more important than a townhouse in a suburb with a name - because the townhouse in the suburb doesn't make me happy like the prospect of a real house with a real yard does ... away from the madding crowds.
I am still recharged from months of not doing too much, waiting for the paperwork to get my first real job to go through. And I do not get drained as fast by this more sedate pace, either. I do not miss the days of waking up with a faint buzzing in my brain just thinking of having to get up, drive to work in the dark, spend the day in the office with too bright lights overhead and a speaker phone and loud collegues blaring in my ears, slogging home to collapse into a chair before preparing to do it all over again. I did that because the money was good, but I'm not going to live in one city and commute to another ever again - not if I can avoid it. I have the fruits of that hard labour - a paid off house, which is a stepping stone towards my real dreams. But it was such a hard slog, it took a lot out of me - was it really worth it? I have to believe it was, and that I didn't wear myself out for nothing, and that my body and soul will recover from the strain.
I have listened to my inner self and I have done what I had to do. I've known that I will step off Africa and into a new world for a long, long time. When America drifted accross my radar ( I was listening for Australia or England, because popular opinion tainted me ) I could recognize it for what it was, and steer towards it. Now I'm here on Yank soil and the food's too oily, too much and too processed, accents are twanging all around me and it is winter in summer - but it is still where I need to be right now. The tension inside me let up when I got here, and that's how I know what to do. I have alligned myself with my future. The part of me that was shaped in Africa will always yearn for the Africa I knew in my childhood - but that Africa is gone now, and I only have the memories and new soil to shape around me. The hills look nothing like any hills in South Africa, the vegetation is different, I am where I am.
Now that I'm here I will have a garden of fresh veg to rescue me from the oil and the processing, I will have my! own! HOUSE! for the first time, with rooms for everything I want to do, birds singing outside, a lawn to manicure and perfect the way I always wanted to. The sketch I started earlier this year will become a painting. The ideas in my head will become a novel. Why do I know this? Like you know what will be in your future.
There is incredible power in thoughts, and people have forgotten it.
You have such a clear picture of what you want that I have no doubt that it will come about. Is your unhappiness maybe impatience? Is sadness really being perplexed at the strange route manifestation is taking?
Thursday is Mushkil Gusha's day - tell a story of how you once magically overcame great difficulty. Then express gratitude for every good thing in your life. Even when you hate what's happening around you. Even when you are angry. Even if you have to do it while you're howling frustration. Even while somewhere in a dark corner of your mind you'd like to slap someone really hard.
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