What if I had been born with more imagination, talent, artistic ability or intellectual capacity than was granted to me? What if I’d grown up to have more wisdom than is mine?
What if I had more depth as a human being?
What if I hadn’t been born working-class in the Midwest but rather to wealth in mid-town Manhattan? Or to college professors in Berkeley?
What if I’d not been so slight in stature that I was typically the last kid picked for a team? What if I were tall and strong, with perfect teeth and an infectious, extraverted personality? What if I’d had charismatic good looks in this life?
What if I’d lived one of the great love stories? How would my life be different if I’d found my soulmate early in life and had a loving, devoted partner by my side through all my struggles?
What if I’d not had to cope with chronic pain for most of my life?
What would my life be like today if even one of these things had been different?
These are thoughts I have on occasion. Typically, I’ll go down this path when I’m feeling a little sorry for myself or things are just generally not going well. That’s not really the case at this moment, though, because what currently brings on such mental meanderings is that I’m wondering how it is that I ended up here. After 37 years an Oregonian, here I am, all of a sudden, a Californian.
I guess the most terrible thing that’s going on right now is that I’m missing “home.”
I was on the phone yesterday with a friend who was, herself, 19 years an Oregonian — and has just moved to Pennsylvania to take on a new job. At the other end of the line I heard her teenage daughter come into the room and ask who she was talking to, to which she replied, “my friend Jim, in California.”
Jim. In California.
How weird to hear those words.
How could this possibly be?
Earlier this year I was a finalist for a position that would have landed me in one of my favorite little college towns on the planet: Corvallis, Oregon. From the moment I discovered the announcement, I pictured myself there, living back in Corvallis: my home for a full twenty years (1970-90).
What if I’d gotten that job?
I guess in a parallel universe, I wowed them at the interview and ended up there. But in this version of reality, I experienced another outcome: needing to move on from the rejection and continue with the interviews. I subsequently traveled to places like Burlington, Vermont; Palm Desert, California; Vancouver, Washington; and Kentfield, California…ending up with the job offer that landed me in my current location.
So here I am: now a Bay Area Golden Stater…wondering what life has in store for me in this place…and having an ache in my heart for a land I call home.
If you’ve been checking in here and wondering what’s up, it’s pretty much the same ol’ same ol’…I’m still spending an incredible amount of time and energy devoted to the job search (…and I don’t have nearly enough of those commodities to devote to photography, writing & blogging!). There is a little time to wander around during my travels, though, and I took this photo (I like the curve) while up in Portland last Monday. Even though Mt. Tabor was not exactly in the neighborhood of my hotel or interview, I still made some space on a balmy Monday evening to take a stroll around one of my favorite Portland parks.
One of the “time-out” activities I did this weekend was to watch the DVD entitled “The Secret.” In case you haven’t heard of this production, it’s one of the latest vehicles for promoting the new-agey kind of belief system (the “law of attraction”) that “like attracts like” or “thoughts become things.”
I’m a big fan of the First Amendment. So finally, after a lifetime of thinking about it, last year I sent in my money to the ACLU and became a card-carrying member. Actually, it wasn’t long after I wrote a blog entry here entitled “Freedom of Speech” that I decided to sign up.
The reason I mention this now is that, quite recently, the topic of free speech entered my life as it pertains to this website. To wit, I have received the feedback that I might want to re-think my decision to discuss my job-search activities on these pages.
Upon hearing this person’s opinion, I admit to feeling mildly embarrassed…and well as somewhat stunned by the unexpected criticism. My initial reaction was to think “ohmygod, I must be f%*#ing up!” I also began wondering if I was, perhaps, unintentionally sabotaging my search for a new position. I immediately reacted to this individual’s viewpoint by un-publishing several recent posts that mentioned my job hunt and some experiences I had had during my travels.
However, in the past few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about my reactivity, and have re-read (several times) the posts I am now hiding from view. And, you know what? I actually think they’re pretty harmless. In these entries, I have talked mostly about myself (which is, after all, what I do here), about the exhausting nature and uncertainty of the job-search process (this is a secret?), and offered up some personal observations of events that have happened while I’ve been on the road.
IMHO, I’ve not harmed any person or organization. And, when I’ve tried to have a little fun by talking about the peculiarity of some things I’ve encountered along the way, I’ve taken care to leave unidentified the person(s) or group(s) involved.
It was quite some time ago now (in “First Do No Harm”) that I addressed the whole area of blogger ethics, examining my own behavior and motivations in publishing this work. At that time I specifically discussed my personal philosophy, including “ …[having] no outright intention of embarrassing, attacking, angering or hurting” anyone. And, really, let me reiterate: I certainly have no agenda to offend, attack or harm anybody here, including myself.
I hope that you, having found your way to this obscure little corner of virtual reality, will remain open-minded enough to allow me this minor self-indulgence (existing wholly apart from my professional existence) called TechnoMonk’s Musings.
Update on June 8, 2007:
After conscientiously re-examining this whole freedom-of-speech issue, I’ve decided to publish again the handful of posts I had hidden in reaction to a reader’s comment. So, if you browse this blog now, you’ll be able to read my rather benign writings on the topic of my job search.
Yesterday, I took a quick, one-day (interview) trip to San Francisco. This involved driving up to the Eugene airport in the morning and then boarding one of United Airline’s small Canadair jets. (And doing the reverse process in the evening, of course.) As I was waiting in the terminal before the trip down, I was doing what I usually do at such times: scoping out the other people in the seating area, wondering why they’re all going where I’m going, and musing about who I’ll be sitting next to (or near) during the flight.
As I was engaged in this speculation, I observed an undeniably-obese woman walking, very slowly, with more of a waddle actually, in my direction. Now, such a sighting is not all that unusual these days, what with our national “obesity epidemic,” but the thing that really attracted my attention was that this individual was coughing with an intensity that I can only describe, with any degree of accuracy at all, as a “death rattle.” It was very deep and pretty scary. As she sat down, fairly close to me, I immediately got up and relocated to a point far-away. Not in my breathing space you don’t, I thought.
Shortly after I moved, I noticed at least three other people get up and use the same avoidance tactic. Let me tell you, this person was having some serious issues, and it was no big secret to anyone even remotely in her vicinity.
It wasn’t long after I had resituated myself, though, that I noticed she had activated a nebulizer, right there in the waiting area, and was attempting to inhale all the medicated steam she could get. Periodically, however, she was forced to remove the mouthpiece portion to engage in yet another coughing jag. Yes, serious, serious stuff going on here.
Just my luck, I thought, that she’ll end up in the seat next to me. (Which would be particularly ironic since I had, at check-in, changed my seat assignment to one at the front of the plane.) Really, I wondered, what would I do if that happened? Would I just sit there, as I had during one trip last spring, when I found myself on a cross-country flight seated next to a woman who reported to me she was very ill and had a temperature of 102? Tell me, what is there to do in these situations where you’re basically trapped and at the mercy of someone who doesn’t have the sense to stay home and not infect the rest of the world?
The moment of truth came when it was time to board the plane. I noticed that she had put away her nubulizer and was standing at the front of the line, perhaps seeking priority-boarding due to her disability. I was far back in the line, in no hurry, having a first-row seat waiting for me. When I got there, it didn’t take long to scan the territory…and to discover that, yes, there she was, directly behind me.
Great. She’ll be hacking the entire trip, spewing her germs directly my way. Yuck. What miserable luck.
But, actually, it wasn’t too long before I started thinking that perhaps I was about to catch a break this time around: for apparently the nebulizer had worked some magic, and she was not coughing any more. Maybe it’ll stay this way? (I asked myself. I hoped to myself.) I guess I’ll just have to wait and see, I decided.
Eventually, after we were in the air, she ended up having a rather extended conversation with the gentleman next to her, and I learned (is this eavesdropping? – how could I NOT have heard this?) that she was a severe asthmatic, that her body had picked this totally inopportune time to have an attack, and that she was quite embarrassed at having had to use the nebulizer right there in the airport. Fortunately for her, the man, a stranger, was totally sympathetic and supported her decision to do whatever she needed to do to take care of herself.
Which is exactly what she needed to hear. What a great thing it was that he was there to say it.
So I, of course, started to examine the assumptions I had made and found that my entire process was really, in all honesty, not very attractive. In this case, I had leapt right into a wholly-narcissistic judgment mode, not really trying to understand at all the suffering that had been going on, right there in front of me. From what I could overhear, she seemed like a rather decent human being, caught in a really tough spot by needing to travel with this particular (probably not-contagious) ailment.
Ahhhh…appearances, and the stories we make up in our heads. They aren’t really “the truth,” are they?
Groundhog Day. Yes, it’s that day…the (mostly laughable) holiday the movie inspired. I’m guessing there will be six more weeks of winter? (We have a choice?!)
In some respects, like Phil Connors (Bill Murray), I’m experiencing a sense of déjà vu all over again. Last year on this day, I wrote about an unstable work situation, spending all my free time looking for another job, having trouble sleeping, living a life alone, suffering with a muscular/nerve issue in my leg, and having virtually no time to pursue my art. (Question: is this blog “art?”) Well OK, now there’s a bunch of stuff (!)…and interestingly (well, for me at least), all of it is still going on right up to this present moment. Consequently I’m realizing, more and more, the wisdom of the saying, “wherever you go, there you are.”
Because: I’m now living in another city, inhabiting a totally new and different physical environment, and experiencing a quite-different (small-town) culture. And, yet, realistically, my life has not actually changed all that much. Today: truly déjà vu.
Here I am. For all practical purposes, in the same situation I’ve been in for some time. Well, other than, for four entire weeks, I’ve been focused on almost nothing else other than improving my health – which had declined to a really unacceptable level and necessitated a break from the routine.
I have to admit, though, my life is better now after having this unprecedented month-long hiatus to focus on self and to engage in an extended period of reflection. And to try to relax. I have not been “relaxed” for a long time. (Years, maybe? Perhaps never?) Insomuch as the muscular state of my body has been perpetually “tight” for as long as I can remember (at least since the time of my early 20s), I can honestly ponder the question: do I have any idea what it is to be relaxed? It may be that I have that particular human condition (relaxation) in my mind as an intellectual construct, but I don’t really know what it means from personal, lived experience.
In any event, I’ve worked on (or at least toward) relaxation for an entire month now, with a 45-minute period of each day devoted to meditation. For at least that portion of every day (sometimes longer), I’ve attempted to clear out random, fleeting thoughts from my mind and, quite simply, focus on the breath. (With varying degrees of success from day-to-day, I might add.) However, it has become a very important part of my existence, and I know that I need to find a way to continue on with this practice, even as I resume a more structured daily routine next week that includes a return to work and all its accompanying stresses.
Needless to say, I’ve paid a great deal of attention to my physical being this last month, as I’ve tirelessly dedicated myself to addressing the chronic-pain issues that have plagued me. I’ve mentioned previously many of the approaches I’ve utilized. And, this week, just yesterday, I added one more technique; I had a craniosacral therapy session for the first time ever. This method is, at this point, still pretty mysterious to me, but it “involves assessing and addressing the movement of the cerebrospinal fluid, which can be restricted by trauma to the body, such as through falls, accidents, and general nervous tension.” My therapist was very gentle, had good, warm hands, and very caringly applied (barely detectable) pressure to various parts of my head, neck and ears. As I left, she advised that my body would slowly be responding to the work over the next few days – and that I should come back in a couple of weeks for more attention. Apparently, there are significant issues here for me, and utilizing this kind of therapy may be instrumental in helping to further improve my condition. Honestly: I’ll do anything that works. Western medicine has helped me very little, and only alternative health-care providers have helped illuminate the path to greater health.
But, as much time and energy as I’ve devoted to my physical self, my spirit is what has really needed nurturing. I’m not sure that I had really reached a spiritual crisis crossroads, and I don’t know that what I’ve experienced lately would be labeled as “spiritual emergence” – perhaps we should just say that this particular health-crisis interlude has led to a spiritual surge. Yes, that sounds about right.
Like everyone, I believe I’m seeking happiness in life. Rarely, though, have I found it. However, if I can keep reminding myself that health and happiness are not really destinations, but that they can only be found moment-by-moment, then, perhaps, I can live more fully.
Lasting progress doesn’t happen in a few dramatic moments, but hour by hour, day by day. And as time passes, every process includes repairs: The road to happiness is always under construction. Focus on taking life one step at a time until you get it right; set aside what you can do later. When discipline and patience join forces, they become a persistence that endures past the peaks and valleys to carry intentions to completion. Enthusiasm sets the pace, but persistence reaches the goal. Process, patience, and persistence are keys that unlock the doorway to any destination. (pp. 31-32) Dan Millman in The Laws of Spirit
