Carpe Diem

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey Marc,

Thanks for those encouraging words about my writing. 

 

Yes, and what was interesting is noticing how I simply wrote; it was something I needed to do, as natural as thinking.  I've been writing for decades, filling journals without effort.  It's more effort to not write.  Without traveling and having to pay for internet, it would have been more.  There are about 20 entries that didn't make it, for this reason.

 

But indeed, that is significant to note.  And like you said about Steven King, that is "what he was doing."  In my quietest (external) and loudest (internal) fantasy, writing is my profession.  Workshops, travel yes-- but always always writing.  Paid to do what I just do.  Well, you know. 

 

 

I awoke at 4:00 am-- granted, jet lag is controlling my circadian rhythms, and it's dinner time.  But, I was awakened with the familiar need to write.  If I still had my job at Landmark, I wouldn't have gotten up.  Would have instead panicked that I only had 3 hours of sleep and-- like hundreds of times before-- ignored the urge.  But today, I understood that I would only sit in bed, wide awake, too stubborn to rise, while "rough drafting" in my mind over and over, until it was time to rise.  Today I decided it's better to answer the call to write, and if I'm tired later, I can rest.  What a gift, to be able to do that!  4:00 AM is not an obstacle; it is an opportunity.

 

 

 

The day I returned home (June 30), I was approached by a man who worked for (my airline) United.  The flight was overbooked.  They needed ten people to reschedule and stay an extra day in Sydney.  The airlines would provide everything-- hotel room next to the airport, shuttle there and back, meal vouchers, rebook all returning flights, and for our troubles, $800.00 in travel vouchers, transferrable and to be used at any time. 

 

He got me just as I was entering the Check-in line.  I was moving forward, with people in front and behind me.  Already in the mental mode of leaving and returning, with bags all packed.  I no longer had a phone and would need to somehow contact Mark to reschedule our pick up.  As tempting as it was, I declined, for no other reasons than lacking the energy and courage to react quickly and accept.

 

As soon as I declined, I knew I had made the wrong decision.  Sure, I wanted to return home, but did I need to?  That day?  I have no job.  So in effect, by accepting the offer, I would have earned $800.00-- paid to stay a day in Australia, a place I didn't want to leave, anyway.  It could provide airfare for a family trip.  It could be a ticket to Australia.  Or, a gift for someone.  I would have stayed in a single hotel room-- pure luxury after 30 days and nights in hostels, listening to international banter and young innocent drunks cavorting at 5:00 am.  Having my own toliet in a private room with a non-twin non-bunk bed.  Fresh sheets and several pillows.  A meal voucher?  My meals had been bread, cheese, and muesli.  And, besides, I only had 90 minutes to connect with my next flight in LA, and might conceivably end up stuck there, paying for a new flight without any compensation.  In the end, I continued to move forward, desperately wanting to turn around and step out of the line.  I regretted my decision, ruminating the whole way. 

 

 

 

In the end, what stops us from accepting opportunity?  A good offer coming too quickly, at a moment when we are moving forward with others around us who expect us to continue moving in the same direction?   I recall a scene in Midnight Express, when Billy (who is locked up in a brutal Turkish prison) decides to turn around and walk in an opposite direction of all the other inmates who are mindlessly walking in a circle.  The inmates react strongly and attempt to turn him around.  As he prevails, it becomes his moment that begins his release to freedom. 

 

 

 

Are you living the life you're supposed to be living, or the one we all expect you to live?  Are you happy in your skin? 

 

Look, I'm not Dr. Phil, better than anyone, winning lotteries.  I have no clue what's next.  But, in that way you might imagine, it is the most compelling of all freedoms, the most intoxicating feeling ever experienced.  I'm so grateful to my husband Mark for supporting this decision.  And, to my friends and family for not judging me (to my face, anyway) and also believing in me.  It means the world. 

 

I realize that stepping out of line and seizing the opportunity can be a romantic notion-- some people are supporting their families, period.  Would I quit my job if I was the sole provider for my family?  Doubtful.  But, does that automatically prevent us from stepping out, when most fibers in our Being are sick of being someone we are not?  Is providing for our families really the single most important task and obstacle in our lives?  Is losing our identity-- even in a dysfunctional environment-- too risky to perceive-- a type of suicide? 

 

Who knows.  Again-- not a guru.  I just want the rest of my life to be more authentic; is that too much to ask?  I don't know if it will be-- for all I know, I'll need to start waitressing, while I curse my decision to leave a steady job that was good enough and rewarding in several ways.  But for now, the thought of returning to that job-- that identity-- is more difficult to bear than the fear of failing in the unknown.  It has reached the Tipping Point.

 

I quit my job, but I'm still missing opportunities, too afraid to seize the day.