I. Don’t. Have. A. Job. Anymore.
I’m self-employed now.
That’s a another form of the curse of Adam in so many ways.
But it’s got its perks. Like getting to decide, mostly, when you get up and ‘go to work’.
And if I can do nothing else right now about to make energy and time for my passion and purpose, than getting up when I will, then I can damn well do that.
Then … at some point, give or take a baby’s upbringing and 1001 stressful workdays, there will be more order in the apartment again.
Or elsewhere. Or in my head. Whatever comes first …
Order enough so I feel better about sitting down somewhere and drawing for longer. In a suitable, good enough space. So it is actually physically possible to do it!
But the very first thing to do is to keep those embers in that space where they need to be always, no matter what:
The eternal makes you urgent.
My friend is very learned but also very down-to-earth, especially around his kids. And his wife is a very strong, caring woman.
I wish I would find excuses to see them more often than when we have kids ourselves.
I wish I did not think about any excuses for seeing any fine friends more often.
It may be stressful to be an entrepreneur, but there are always other customers. Always.
I’d do well to remember that as well.
One of the days when I felt … affected somehow to see other persons as annoying or hostile towards me, intentionally. First choice of view.
Whatever the reason, I feel glad to say that I managed to let go of it all at the end of the day.
And let go of my looming hostility towards myself for not being able to let go of it all sooner.
It’s one of the nice things about middle-age. About age in general – if it hasn’t killed you.
You can be the rock for someone else. In so many ways …
Who are you a rock for?
Maybe I – we – want so much to be perfect because we have been taught early on that a ‘pure record’ is the only way to be appreciated.
In school. By parents. By peers.
Maybe. It seems deeply ingrained.
And obviously critique, even if it’s just someone with a need to tell me I said “right” too many times during a live-talk – that still gets to me, despite years of experience.
But what are the standards? Who gets annoyed by 12 “rights”? Who gets annoyed by 25? Who gets annoyed by 5 in a row? Who feels 5 in a row constitutes the whole talk? And so on …
These kinds of critical questions usually short circuit when I am critiqued. I have to make an effort to call them up.
I’ll do better next, certainly, when I give a live-talk.
Afterwards I’ll ask ALL of the right questions about how I actually performed.
The most important thing is still that I felt calm – much more calm – throughout such a busy day, with so many uncertainties in view.
That must be because I detoxed. Cut off bad social media, bad news, bad noise.
From the Internet.
Only went with what was necessary
So … can I keep this shift real this time? Or will I fall back into the ‘need for noise?’
Is the inner silence and its inherent peace enough?
Today I am not in doubt.
Since when was pretty pictures on Facebook relevant to your health, job, family or anything else?
But you can control it, right? You don’t spend so much time on social media that it matters, right?
10 minutes a day makes for 3650 minutes per year makes for 60 hours per year.
That’s not so much time to look at pretty pictures.
Only 10 minutes more to read about some idiot who is a disgrace to the office he currently occupies and what he will do next.
Will people thank you at your funeral for having spent 120 hours per year for that? Almost a month full time work per year.
As if you volunteered for summer camp to help the disabled. Oh, wait that’s only 1 week per year. Or …
Will people thank you? Your family? Your son or daughter? Voters in the United States?
I know what they will say at my funeral if I continue like this.
With being able ‘to control it’ …
I know what they’ll say. Or rather: What they will not say because I didn’t do much about it.
I know what they’ll not say. And I don’t want to hear it.
I do wish I could just run from it all, but I suppose that is the most natural feeling in the world.
But feeling peace starts with me doing something, no matter the approach I take to the act of creating peace.
And when did anyone ever feel more at peace by the act of running away?
An old friend, whom I had thought lost, said to me today that having children makes you both invincible and incredibly vulnerable at the same time.
No more needs to be said.
I don’t believe I can get a guarantee that everything will ‘go well’.
But that’s not what I’m looking for.
I guess I’m looking for the feeling of energy and courage that I have sometimes gotten in difficult situations, and feeling that it came from somewhere … ‘beyond me’.
When I asked for it. Or just when I needed it.
That at least I can have faith in.
It’s like the breathing exercises my girlfriend has learnt to better manage the pain.
They can’t stop it, but they can make pain easier. If you open yourself to the possibility that it can happen.
That you can do it. That there is help.
Anything but curling up in a ball and pretending to be all alone when the sh… hits the fan.
Curling up, like a fetal position …
But while that version of the fetal position signals fear, there is also another version.
That of birth.
We spend more time liking people on Facebook nowadays, or trying to get liked, then going out and talking to real people.
Or just sitting still and listening to our hearts, what we truly want – who can help us – where we should truly go …