A beautiful gift came into my email inbox this morning. It is a gift to PB from a fellow traveler, a gift to you, and certainly a gift to me because I'm still fighting a bad cold and can't get my whoses and whatsis together enought to write anything intelligent, plus the cold medicine makes me feel like I'm typing with my elbows. It is a rumination from my beloved RR, and reminded me that in additional to all the other logical magic she brings to me on a regular basis, she's a knockout of a writer.
The open call still stands, folks, and it has resulted in at least one other guest post that I'm hoping will be ready to go up by tomorrow. Be well.
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From MBRR:
Having been in PB's shoes, or at least similar places of flux, at various times in my life, I can understand what she is going through. Closing your eyes and taking a giant leap of faith to change your life always has repercussions, but unfortunately they aren't always the one's we think they will be when our feet first leave the ground. When those repercussions turn out to be not what you planned, it can make you want to shake your fist at the universe. Come on, universe! You want to say, I did the hard part already! I made the decision. I landed here. Now it is your turn to bring serendipity to my side. Consciousness and mindfulness, rather than acquiescence to the status quo brought me this far, now I should be rewarded for my bravery. Shouldn't I?
I have been contemplating this question in particular for the last several days because I too recently made a decision to take my life in a certain direction, one that I felt was right in my gut. Yet I have been faced with the harsh reality that the universe has more or less taken my decision and thrown it back in my face. For 3 days I have been railing inside- my thoughts black and spiteful and unproductive. Ef you, universe- and Ef your mother, too! I have been eaten by the unfairness of it all. Everyone, and I mean everyone I know agreed that the decision to do a PhD was the right one for me. People who have known me a long time said they always thought that I would, and wondered why it took me so long to figure it out. People at my job said absolutely. It is the right path for you. Academics told me I was a virtual shoe-in, what with my experience, grades, and knowledge. I was a rare candidate, indeed. Universities would probably throw money at me and beg me to come study. And so I was sure. My gut told me it was the right way to go. And I had external validation and support for my decision. What other signs could there have been, or could I have read? And yet, here I am. 3 out of 4 applications rejected. One more pending and not a shoe-in or a sure thing by any means.
And so while I wait for magic #4, I have been forced to deal with the question that I really never thought would come up. What will I do if I don't get in? Some people have suggested that I wait and re-apply next year. This seems to be how the game of graduate school gets played these days. And re-applying may be a test from the universe about how loud my gut was really speaking to me. If it is the right path, the universe seems to be saying, you can wait. And yet, I can't. Maybe others can, but I cannot. I went through a huge amount of personal upheaval to arrive at this decision, and I am just about worn out. Doing the PhD was to be the new path, the one I chose after almost 2 years of hard soul searching and heart wrenching decisions of all kinds. It was to be the answer I tore the rest of my life apart looking to find. Now I just don't have the stamina to wait another year, and go through another round of applications, to have it come out wrong all over again. I just don't think I have it in me.
Nevertheless, once I decided that the PhD was the path I wanted, I came to see it as not just the answer to what I would do, but the answer in some way to who I am. For the last year, since I decided that it is what I would do, I have held the decision and the idea of it close to my chest, and defended it as a part of my identity- the true identity I had been growing into for all these years. My chance to become the woman I always knew I could be. And in the waiting, I have gone into some dark places. Each rejection a personal affront, and my life hanging before me like a butterfly inside a cocoon, doomed to be forever unrealized.
Today though, I realized something for the first time. Whether I do or whether I don't get accepted, a PhD is not who I am. I am not the sum total of the knowledge I possess, the opportunities I have been given, the rejections I have received. I am also not how I look on paper; I am not the deficiencies on my resume, nor the antithesis to those who have gotten what I wanted. I am not the praise I have been given, nor the shock of others who were also convinced I would get in. I am greater than all these things, and all these moments. And I am enough. As I am, with all the knowledge, and experience, and education I already have. I am enough. Somewhere in the universe there is a place for me to pursue and create the life of the butterfly I am capable of becoming. Even if it doesn't turn out to be where and as I, and my gut, thought it should be. All I can do is trust that the universe knows better than I what my fate should be.
So what is it that has tossed around for me about PB's post? I guess it was that I wanted to say to her, let go a little. Desperation won't help, but money is the same color no matter where it comes from. Take a job waiting tables if you have to. Sign up with every temp agency you can find. In desperate times, any job can be the job, until the right one comes. In the meantime, remember that the money that feeds you, isn't who you are. And just to show that I know all this is easier said than done, I once worked folding shirts and greeting customers at The Gap, even though I had a master's degree and 5 years professional experience in my back pocket. I needed money badly, and I couldn't face receiving unemployment. After a month, I left the shirts to start the job that, 7 years later, is my career.
Finally, for both PB and myself, the mantra I have been trying to hold onto in a very uncertain time is a quote from Rilke. "...And for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is right, in any case."For PB and myself, I sincerely hope we both get what we want, but even if we don't, none of us is only our wishes or desires, realized or not. We exist outside of wanting. And we are enough.
Showing posts with label the possible. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the possible. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
What We Want
I'm exhausted and yet I can seemingly keep going. That's all the miracle I need for today.
I've been thinking about what I've been asking for here, and what others have been asking for. This blog was born out of strange twins of grief and hope, a plain human need to will the buds open when everything is bone cold and withered.
Looking at this blog so far as the most informal of surveys, I'd say we need to know the sick can get well, the odds can be overcome, the dead still love us even if we can never again slip our hand into theirs, unthinkingly, as we take their presence for granted. We need to know we can survive our personal horrors, and that the world can survive all the horrors that people visit on eachother. We need to know that what seems impossible, on any given day, can happen, from our own effort and from powers beyond us, because we are deserving and somehow loved. We need to know that when we ask for help, the universe is listening and the universe will grant it.
With all our electric light, we're still this little group of people in the darkness praying that the sun will come up over the hill again, that we'll get through the winter, that the crops will come in.
I don't know what it means that we live in a relatively physically stable society with our souls still fighting for survival this way. I also don't know, at this moment, if this is all just me.
I've been thinking about what I've been asking for here, and what others have been asking for. This blog was born out of strange twins of grief and hope, a plain human need to will the buds open when everything is bone cold and withered.
Looking at this blog so far as the most informal of surveys, I'd say we need to know the sick can get well, the odds can be overcome, the dead still love us even if we can never again slip our hand into theirs, unthinkingly, as we take their presence for granted. We need to know we can survive our personal horrors, and that the world can survive all the horrors that people visit on eachother. We need to know that what seems impossible, on any given day, can happen, from our own effort and from powers beyond us, because we are deserving and somehow loved. We need to know that when we ask for help, the universe is listening and the universe will grant it.
With all our electric light, we're still this little group of people in the darkness praying that the sun will come up over the hill again, that we'll get through the winter, that the crops will come in.
I don't know what it means that we live in a relatively physically stable society with our souls still fighting for survival this way. I also don't know, at this moment, if this is all just me.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Guest Post -- Please Do Your Bit
Reposted with permission from my friend YF's journal (names removed). Please pray, plea, ask, and holler as desired:
As some of you know, I'm not too close with much of my family. The one exception is my sister and her three girls. If I know anything about unconditional love, I've learned it from her.
Their lives have been joyful but full of hardship. My sister's husband took off when the oldest girl was 12. Among other things, he took every penny in every account and left them with huge debt. My sister learned, the hard way, to be self sufficient while raising three girls on her own. She has done an amazing job. The girls are smart, loyal, responsible, and fun.
The youngest is applying for college now. With her grades and activities she'll be able to take her pick of schools. She's even on the short list for Harvard.
The middle girl is an athlete with brains. She's studying bioengineering at Case Western Reserve . . . on scholarship.
The oldest has a year left at Kent State, her college largely paid for by scholarships too. She stayed near home so she could keep working every weekend. She has worked constantly since she was 12, first babysitting, and then taking any and every afterschool and weekend job she could find. You'd think all the work, having to forgo all the things regular teenagers get to do, would have made her angry teenage nightmare, but I have never met a young woman with more grace and generosity.
Next year my sister will have three kids in college. That, combined with her recent breast cancer diagnosis, means it's going to be tighter than ever for the next couple of years, so the girls are working on more scholarship applications. The oldest made the the finals for another scholarship and needs votes to win.
Sadly the voting is over, so I can't ask all of you to stuff the ballot box on her behalf, but I think I'll consider this a plea to the universe that she wins. This family needs a break.
As some of you know, I'm not too close with much of my family. The one exception is my sister and her three girls. If I know anything about unconditional love, I've learned it from her.
Their lives have been joyful but full of hardship. My sister's husband took off when the oldest girl was 12. Among other things, he took every penny in every account and left them with huge debt. My sister learned, the hard way, to be self sufficient while raising three girls on her own. She has done an amazing job. The girls are smart, loyal, responsible, and fun.
The youngest is applying for college now. With her grades and activities she'll be able to take her pick of schools. She's even on the short list for Harvard.
The middle girl is an athlete with brains. She's studying bioengineering at Case Western Reserve . . . on scholarship.
The oldest has a year left at Kent State, her college largely paid for by scholarships too. She stayed near home so she could keep working every weekend. She has worked constantly since she was 12, first babysitting, and then taking any and every afterschool and weekend job she could find. You'd think all the work, having to forgo all the things regular teenagers get to do, would have made her angry teenage nightmare, but I have never met a young woman with more grace and generosity.
Next year my sister will have three kids in college. That, combined with her recent breast cancer diagnosis, means it's going to be tighter than ever for the next couple of years, so the girls are working on more scholarship applications. The oldest made the the finals for another scholarship and needs votes to win.
Sadly the voting is over, so I can't ask all of you to stuff the ballot box on her behalf, but I think I'll consider this a plea to the universe that she wins. This family needs a break.
Friday, February 8, 2008
When It's Surmountable
I'm very lucky in that I have a job I like. However I want to do something completely different -- and no, it's not the fish-slapping dance. I found out this year that I want to design jewelry. I am slowly building the skills to be able to do that -- learning to render, learning to silversmith, designing and so on. I am also trying to suspend my disbelief that this is an insane idea. I have two great things in my favor: a husband who is completely supportive, and friends and family who draw monsters and make fertility sculptures out of broken furniture FOR A LIVING so boy am I in the best possible company for this kind of career transition.
The third thing I now have, courtesy of my lovely Tante, is the passenger records of my maternal great-great grandparents and seven of their nine children, ranging in age from 18 to an infant (the last two, including my great-grandmother, were born here) when they came through Ellis Island from Russia in 1898.
In addition to the sheer loveliness of having all of their original names on record (some of them were Americanized to the point of being unrecognizable), I have a reminder that will carry me through the next year and half -- that my great-great grandmother was the exact age I will be this year, 37, when she came here with basically nothing, survived the trip and started over in a new world, with seven children depending on her.
I would wish for her strength but I know I already have it, so I can only say bless you my wonderful ancestors. Everything I could ever want in this new world is entirely possible.
The third thing I now have, courtesy of my lovely Tante, is the passenger records of my maternal great-great grandparents and seven of their nine children, ranging in age from 18 to an infant (the last two, including my great-grandmother, were born here) when they came through Ellis Island from Russia in 1898.
In addition to the sheer loveliness of having all of their original names on record (some of them were Americanized to the point of being unrecognizable), I have a reminder that will carry me through the next year and half -- that my great-great grandmother was the exact age I will be this year, 37, when she came here with basically nothing, survived the trip and started over in a new world, with seven children depending on her.
I would wish for her strength but I know I already have it, so I can only say bless you my wonderful ancestors. Everything I could ever want in this new world is entirely possible.
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