I just resisted a very powerful urge to start another blog. Actually, to be honest, I didn’t resist it — WordPress.com wouldn’t give me another blog setup with the same email address, and I caved and logged in. How’s that for astounding levels of purpose and persistence?
I’ve been thinking a lot about writing instead of writing a lot about thinking. Mainly because writing is something I always plan to do “someday when there’s time,” like travel, smiling, and relaxation. Or “when I can afford it,” like never. Somehow, while I know the countless tales of poor writers who slogged through until they had a wealth-making masterpiece (or an editor who could turn it into such), I’ve never been able to build up the momentum, I guess the faith, to sit down and devote myself to it. Not when there’s a ton of [insert chore or work] to do.
But I’ll try here for a mini-dose, and then see if I come back for more. There are a lot of things right now that frighten me. The economy. The job market. Tuition payments. But most of all I’m scared these days by my own lack of direction — my inability to figure out where I fit into the patchwork of abilities and talents that makes up, well, everything that makes money. I don’t want to be casting around for much longer trying to figure out what exactly it is that I do. And I don’t want what I do to be a barely paid version of treading water.
Sometimes moving up here seems like the best idea I ever had. And sometimes it seems like the dumbest thing ever. I love this house and this area, and knowing that the kids can play outside safely, and tramp through the woods without even leaving our property. But central NH is just not an exciting hub of fast-paced professional life, and more and more, I miss that possibility — the new ideas and people around every corner. I left it just as I might have been making the leap from someone’s assistant to someone. And here I am, still taking notes and following leads — fully aware that the economic lifeboats are reserved for the unstuck, but unable to see how to invest in tomorrow’s hope while still paying today’s bills.
“Be where you are,” says Pema Chodron. Fine, but I’d like where I am to be a path that has more than old age and death at the end of it. Getting by isn’t enough anymore. And figuring out how to be poor and happy has officially run its course in this house.
