"Being comfortable makes me uncomfortable." I have been teased for that phrase several times. No, it is not some vain attempt to place myself among famous quotists of our day. The phrase simply sums up my auspicious quest for purpose, destiny and the like. But until recently, it has never resounded louder. Reality is punching me in the throat and I have no defenses. However, I have to take responsibility here. I do this. I run away from comfort. In fact, all my major decisions in life have been made primarily because I got comfortable, complacent...dare I say it: content. Once I snuggled into a corner of life, dug a groove and grew roots, I needed to get up and move. I needed to relocate and restart the growth process (including pain & rejection). I could be noble and say it's because I want to perpetually learn. After all, learning occurs on the cusp of growth and change. But to be honest, it's probably because I'm fearful. I'm fearful of being mechanical. I'm fearful of repeating myself without purpose or pursuit. I'm fearful of plateau. I'm scared of routine. All human beings are afraid of these things on some level. It's just typically people with Autism who are happy with that lot. Some find their comfort in a world without change or catalyst. Some love control and predictability. I hate it.
I will never forget the day I discovered this. It was the 2nd semester of graduate school and I was packing my food for the day. It was a Tuesday, which meant I had class from 4:30 pm until 9:30 pm. This meant I not only had to prepare my lunch for work but my dinner for school that night. I took two frozen meals from the fridge and placed them in my bag. I zipped it up and poured my morning coffee. I then sat down and proceeded to have a mini panic attack. At 6:30 am, I knew everything that I was going to be eating for that day. Already! There would be no adventure of discovery in the fridge as I try to create a unique concoction for supper. No weighing the options of eating out that night and no audacious trips to a vending machine at work. No, I had everything planned, all that was left was execution. My day hadn't even started and I was already bored. I thought to myself, "who wants to live like this?" If all the adventure I got was unearthing the mystery of what my meals would look like for that day, then so be it. I wasn't going to rob myself of that.
That was the last time I packed both meals.
I had been living my life of "unpredictability" for some time by then. I just never knew why I was. I had come to Chicago, left all my family and friends behind and started over. I studied the first thing that interested me, made as many friends as I could and laid a foundation that I couldn't easily get away from. I wanted to make a new home here apart from St. Louis. But then again, I knew I could only keep that up for 4 years. I took the first job offered to me and again hit my life's reset button. That life blew up in a poetic irony sort of way. So I started over at a different job. I was good at that job, my talents were recognized and I was given a promotion, a raise and more responsibility; all within 3 months of starting. But then...I plateaued. I learned all I could, got as far as I wanted to go and hit a dead end. Luckily, I got married and had to move again. Ergo, new job. AGAIN, I became alive with excitement and challenge, mastered the art of the position and drew all I could from it. After about 6 months, that reset button was looking mighty tempting. I forced myself to stop my destructive pattern and reflect on my experiences. I was determined to put these to proactive use. I knew I enjoyed the same aspect of each job that I had had to date: teaching. I liked training new people or helping to unravel a difficult case. I liked being the possessor of knowledge and serving those around me. I was good at explaining things and demanded good communication. I was a leader without meaning to be and respected without trying. So I needed a new challenge, a new opportunity, some type of career that is void of plateau and a had a constant catalyst of change. I needed to be an educator. I needed to blend all of my dreams in life into a one word career that was simple, yet aligned to my talents. I don't want predictability in my job. I want to be challenged, I want to use all of my aptitude and ability beyond their typical evidence.
(My husband likes to call me "the queen of metaphors", so here's one for ya...) I want to make Michaelangelo's David just using play-doh.
I could wrap all of this back around to my general theme of movement, achievement and goals but this time, it's not really about that. Mostly, it's that my dreams of being a teacher are around the corner from becoming real and I'm scared to death.
I blame Eleanor Roosevelt.
When I took my job at Action For Children I had one of those default screen savers that everybody gets. It was filled with pictures of kids & families, quotes from our founder and statistics. But there was one slide that I will never forget. A picture of dopey, plain jane Eleanor next to her famous quote, "Do one thing every day that scares you." I looked at the screen saver for almost a year before I took hold of that challenge and signed up for grad school. It is 1 year later and the finish line is in sight. So there you go Eleanor, I'm freaked.
And it feels great.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Friday, November 19, 2010
Climbing
So I've been thinking, how are people supposed to be happy? I mean logistically, the society we live in is built upon achievement and not contentment. We climb the grade levels through school, get bachelor's degrees, master's degrees and for the insane, doctorates. But what about after we achieve? We have video games that we play until we beat all the levels, then they collect dust on our shelves. The whole point of reading is to get through the whole book right? We take tests and get scores. What do we do with them? We climb the ranks of employment positions. What happens when you become the CEO? Then what? Move onto a bigger company and do the same thing? Many say, "there's always a bigger fish to fry." I would beg to differ. One of these days, you're going to fry a blue whale, then you're screwed. That's what we call, "the end of the road." The comedian Lewis Black commented in his Carnegie Hall Performance that now that he had played that venue, he doesn't know where to go from there. His punch line was crude and inappropriate (albeit hilarious) but he had a point. Anywhere else he played from that point on, would be a step down.
It's no wonder that when we achieve, we start a cycle of repeating. It's pretty insane actually. Routines are signs of losing it. I once heard this definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. You can't find something else to achieve so all you are left with is repetition. I've had several friends who have bought the entire series of TV shows. Smallville, Sex & the City, Friends (guilty), Gilmore Girls, How I Met Your Mother (again, guilty), etc. Problem with this is that once you watch them all the way through, then what do you do with them? Most echo the lifestyle of the completed video game.
Here's my theory: I don't think contentment is achievable. I don't think it exists. I think we are so corrupt as a human race, that our only manner of living is consumerism. Now this is not just monetary, but all manners of the word. I quote my friend Mr. Smith:
"I'd like to share a revelation I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with their surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area, and you multiply, and you multiply, until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You are a plague, and we … are the cure."
As pop culture and pseudo-philosophical as this movie is, it speaks the truth. I can't see it any other way. Think about the good things in human kind. Social Services for example, are designed to help people live, achieve and succeed; aka CONSUME. Our most philanthropic of duties is to make other people just as discontent as the rest of us. It's no wonder we are a pleasure seeking society. All good works are said to be selfish. I would go a step further and say that all good works are destructive. Now, it is the lesser of the two evils. To have a world where each person lives for their own survival and none other is far worse. The human race would cease to exist. Plus, living in the way we do does bring occasional happiness and enjoyment to the string of achievements. I think the other animals of this planet are all holding onto some secret though. They are content just to survive. To eat, sleep, play and die. Never the need for anything else. How often do you hear someone envy the life of a lazy cat or a two year old? They have no other ambition than to be just as they are. Their bodily needs being satisfied is enough.
You know what the truth is, we're all autistic. Constant need for stimulation. We're all obsessed with sensory things. We can't exist without being reminded that we exist. We all need to feel "alive"? Is there something missing from breathing that makes this so difficult? I'm pretty sure if my heart stopped beating, I wouldn't feel alive anymore. Emotional life isn't as big of a deal as we make it. We can feel alive, even happy for a time, if we remember that it's a miracle that we're here. The sheer chances of us being conceived are astronomical, yet it keeps happening. Thousands of babies are born a day. Thousands are being conceived daily (chew on that disturbing thought for a while). We exist. Instead of asking the dirtiest question there is (why am I here?) why don't we focus on thankfulness? I'm glad I'm alive, because you know what? I don't know any different. I don't want to know the opposite of that scenario yet, I'm ok breathing and walking around as a miracle. I'm even ok with consuming, but I won't consume myself with seeking for contentment. I'll just keep breathing.
It's no wonder that when we achieve, we start a cycle of repeating. It's pretty insane actually. Routines are signs of losing it. I once heard this definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. You can't find something else to achieve so all you are left with is repetition. I've had several friends who have bought the entire series of TV shows. Smallville, Sex & the City, Friends (guilty), Gilmore Girls, How I Met Your Mother (again, guilty), etc. Problem with this is that once you watch them all the way through, then what do you do with them? Most echo the lifestyle of the completed video game.
Here's my theory: I don't think contentment is achievable. I don't think it exists. I think we are so corrupt as a human race, that our only manner of living is consumerism. Now this is not just monetary, but all manners of the word. I quote my friend Mr. Smith:
"I'd like to share a revelation I've had during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species. I realized that you're not actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with their surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area, and you multiply, and you multiply, until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You are a plague, and we … are the cure."
As pop culture and pseudo-philosophical as this movie is, it speaks the truth. I can't see it any other way. Think about the good things in human kind. Social Services for example, are designed to help people live, achieve and succeed; aka CONSUME. Our most philanthropic of duties is to make other people just as discontent as the rest of us. It's no wonder we are a pleasure seeking society. All good works are said to be selfish. I would go a step further and say that all good works are destructive. Now, it is the lesser of the two evils. To have a world where each person lives for their own survival and none other is far worse. The human race would cease to exist. Plus, living in the way we do does bring occasional happiness and enjoyment to the string of achievements. I think the other animals of this planet are all holding onto some secret though. They are content just to survive. To eat, sleep, play and die. Never the need for anything else. How often do you hear someone envy the life of a lazy cat or a two year old? They have no other ambition than to be just as they are. Their bodily needs being satisfied is enough.
You know what the truth is, we're all autistic. Constant need for stimulation. We're all obsessed with sensory things. We can't exist without being reminded that we exist. We all need to feel "alive"? Is there something missing from breathing that makes this so difficult? I'm pretty sure if my heart stopped beating, I wouldn't feel alive anymore. Emotional life isn't as big of a deal as we make it. We can feel alive, even happy for a time, if we remember that it's a miracle that we're here. The sheer chances of us being conceived are astronomical, yet it keeps happening. Thousands of babies are born a day. Thousands are being conceived daily (chew on that disturbing thought for a while). We exist. Instead of asking the dirtiest question there is (why am I here?) why don't we focus on thankfulness? I'm glad I'm alive, because you know what? I don't know any different. I don't want to know the opposite of that scenario yet, I'm ok breathing and walking around as a miracle. I'm even ok with consuming, but I won't consume myself with seeking for contentment. I'll just keep breathing.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Learning
I'm doing this everyday. Whether I want to or not. I am learning. I hear a new song on the radio, I come across an unfamiliar policy at work, I laugh at a new joke, I read a chapter in a text book. I'm always learning. I can't stop it. I've tried. Even when I turn on T.V. to numb myself to active thinking, I learn my limits in boredom. There is too much to be consumed with. Too many exhilarating subjects. There's always a new movie, new novel series, new line of clothing or tech gadget. I'm overwhelmed with what I think I should know, what I have or what I should read. I have heard it said that it would take 200+ years to read everything posted on the internet and here am I contributing. That's just the internet! What about the printed word? So is it best to explore as much as possible? Mile wide & and an inch deep kind of thing. Or is it better to be a master of subject? To know all there is, say, about the different kinds of carpet. That could be quite a task. Shag, plush, loop, high & low traffic. I can't decide which is better. I hear Carpe Diem! and at the same time...stop and smell the roses. So the moral of the story is to seize as many opportunities as you can and study each one thoroughly.
Well that's just exhausting.
I want to be good at things. Maybe even cliche things. Like biking, history, scrapbooking or being skinny. I want to be interested in things too. I wish I cared enough about politics, but I don't see the merit. I wish I had the discipline to learn the piano. You know for more than a day or so. I could be more ambitious than I am. I could be out in the world, meeting people, advocating for social change, risking comfort for experience, but I don't. And why? Because I'm lethargic. Its a illness really. Diagnosed as a teenager, it has plagued me for many years. The perpetual drama that fills my life sucks out any desire for experience. I'd rather watch others encounter that which we call life than do it myself, its much more entertaining that way. Maybe this is why I am eager to be a teacher. I pine for daily personal conversations and discussions, even if its with thirty 9 year olds. But more than anything that I have desired in my life, I want to be a good at this one thing: teaching. I want to master this subject of instruction. I want to influence. It is quite egotistical, I admit. Who am I to believe that I have any good merit to pass onto others? I am corrupt, to be sure. I cheat, lie, steal and think myself better than others. I do, trust me. So why do I want to teach others to do what I do? Good question. I want to teach them to be better. I want to teach the coming generations that there is redemption in corruption. I want to show my brokenness and my salvation. I want to learn in front of them.
If God would grant me this one blessing: I would ask to be useful. To contribute is to have meaning in my mind. To take ownership of your existence, to be purposeful and human. Sure I daydream of lottery winnings and long vacations to ridiculous places. But a life of gluttony is unsatisfying and against our nature. I want to exhaust myself into purpose.
So as I keep learning, this is what I want...
The best word that someone could write on my grave when I go is legacy.
Well that's just exhausting.
I want to be good at things. Maybe even cliche things. Like biking, history, scrapbooking or being skinny. I want to be interested in things too. I wish I cared enough about politics, but I don't see the merit. I wish I had the discipline to learn the piano. You know for more than a day or so. I could be more ambitious than I am. I could be out in the world, meeting people, advocating for social change, risking comfort for experience, but I don't. And why? Because I'm lethargic. Its a illness really. Diagnosed as a teenager, it has plagued me for many years. The perpetual drama that fills my life sucks out any desire for experience. I'd rather watch others encounter that which we call life than do it myself, its much more entertaining that way. Maybe this is why I am eager to be a teacher. I pine for daily personal conversations and discussions, even if its with thirty 9 year olds. But more than anything that I have desired in my life, I want to be a good at this one thing: teaching. I want to master this subject of instruction. I want to influence. It is quite egotistical, I admit. Who am I to believe that I have any good merit to pass onto others? I am corrupt, to be sure. I cheat, lie, steal and think myself better than others. I do, trust me. So why do I want to teach others to do what I do? Good question. I want to teach them to be better. I want to teach the coming generations that there is redemption in corruption. I want to show my brokenness and my salvation. I want to learn in front of them.
If God would grant me this one blessing: I would ask to be useful. To contribute is to have meaning in my mind. To take ownership of your existence, to be purposeful and human. Sure I daydream of lottery winnings and long vacations to ridiculous places. But a life of gluttony is unsatisfying and against our nature. I want to exhaust myself into purpose.
So as I keep learning, this is what I want...
The best word that someone could write on my grave when I go is legacy.
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