Longing

Longing.  I feel longing. Underneath the disappointment, the anger, the sadness, the lonesomeness, the tiredness, the confusion (I could go on), lies longing. My whole being aches for something unnamable.

It’s tempting to leave it at that. Once I realize that I can’t describe something in words, it’s pretty easy for me to leave it behind (at least for a few hours) and sit on my meditation cushion, believing that I’m somehow accessing the unnamable. I can breathe in and out at my desk at work and experience the unnamable feeling.  I can get down to it via non-linear channels. 

I asked God if, when I encounter the thing I have been longing for, I will know it. I haven’t heard back yet.

I think I will know. I think that whatever it is is very close. I’m not sure if it’s a person, an event, a job, a chance, a vocation, a feeling, or a group. It’s probably something else entirely. For certain, it is a longing for change – either in me or in the world around me. Something needs to come in and mix up the action. But that’s not such a huge revelation. Any longing is a longing for change of some kind, even if it’s just a longing for a change within that will allow me to enjoy the world as it is.

Or maybe every longing is simply a desire for the longing to go away. Maybe longing just is, and all we can do is want it to leave us alone.  But what would I be without a longing of some kind?  Once I achieve the object of my longing, doesn’t the longing just transfer to a new object? Once it transfers, I then spend days, months, or years figuring out what the new object is.  After a while, I might lay hands on the not-so-new-anymore longing, but all that leads to is the appearance of a new new longing. 

Or maybe I’m always entertaining multiple longings. I’m filled with hundreds of longings, and when one goes away, others stay or newly appear. The longings constantly flow in and out of me.  I’m a body of ever-shifting longings blowing and whirling through me – some finding their way to the core and making a home for themselves, and others whizzing by faster than I can feel them.

I like this image of me as a swirling cacophony of movement and yearning. That’s how I experience life. It also explains why longings often confuse me. I misinterpret what they are.  I assume I have a singular longing when, in fact, dozens or even hundreds or thousands of longings compete for my attention every moment of every day. The crux of my disease is that I mistake a surface longing for one of the deeper ones. I might eat something or apply for another new job instead of paying attention to the deeper longing. I assume I want food or a career change, when maybe what I long for is far more complicated.

The key to my salvation is not satisfying longings. It must be something else.

It’s easier to attend to surface desires and far more difficult to discern the deeper longings.  I doubt those deeper longings are any harder to satisfy than the surface ones, but pinpointing what it is that could satisfy the deeper desires – that’s the trick.

So here I sit: me, a swirling mass of longing. That about describes it.

And which longing is at my core?  Which longing do I feel right now?  Is it the same longing I’ve felt for the last two months?  Or has it changed?  What is this?  And does it matter if I fulfill it?  Will I barely feel the satisfaction of fulfillment and simply move on to the next longing? Is it better to become friends with longing and let it exist in my heart as long as it chooses to stay?  When do I take action to fulfill a longing? Or could all my longings be fulfilled without me doing anything? Could developing satisfaction and contentment with the longing actually be the path to fulfillment?

Maybe.  I think I’m hungry…

No More Dying

I felt like I was dying. That’s the best way I can describe it. I would be sitting at my desk, staring at the computer, feeling the keyboard under my fingers, and I would think, “I’m going to die.” Not a suicidal thought, just a premonition.  If I continued to sit there, at that job, in that building, doing the same thing every day, I would die. This I knew.

So I quit.  After four months of torment, fear, sadness, bingeing, resignation, anger, meditation, crying, praying, thinking, journaling, and dreaming, I quit. When I made the decision to quit my well-paying, full-time, insurance-providing job, I felt free. I felt like I could live in the world again.

I told my boss about my decision four days after I made it in my heart. I had discussed the choice with people, who mostly reacted positively.  I was rather shocked at how responsible they seemed to think I was.  I doubted I would be able to get myself to focus each day, trying to find work as a musician and writer, but they seemed fairly certain that I would do it. It occurred to me that I might be far more mature and reliable than I estimated. Perhaps I am.  Perhaps I’m not.  That remains to be seen.

I have been self-employed for three days now.  I have a few solid clients with Rock Star Writing and Editing already. By a few, I mean 3-5, and only two of them are booked for more than a single project. In music news, I couldn’t get any other musicians to sign on for the second Mi’Show, which is happening on May 4. Nonetheless, I have a nice vision in my head of a solo concert, so I think it will work out.  I have a lot to say to my fans right now, and perhaps I need an entire two hours to say it to an audience.

I have little idea how I am going to make ends meet. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m approved for individual health insurance.  If I get it, how will I pay for it?  My decision to leave my job seems increasingly insane.

Still, I do know one thing. The thought of going back to my old job upsets my stomach, up into my throat. I don’t want to go back. It was certainly not a bad job.  It was the best job I’ve ever had.  I was paid handsomely for work that, honestly, wasn’t that difficult. I liked the people there.  The office location was beautiful.  People appreciated my writing and editing for the most part, and I got to contribute in many other ways to the company.

Nonetheless, I was going to die.

Today, I don’t feel like I’m going to die.  Today, I feel free.  I feel afraid.  But I also feel free.  Part of me is strapped down by thoughts clambering for me to find more work, more money, more gigs, more everything. But another part of me knows that I will always have everything I need.  I just don’t know what I need yet.

I watched the sunset today from my car.  I was coming back from a recovery meeting that focuses on steps 10, 11, and 12 from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We call it After Nine. The concept resonates with me.  We focus on spirituality and on our connection with others.  It lines up brilliantly with something my last sponsor told me. She said that recovery is really about three things:

1. Connecting with God
2. Connecting with others
3. Connecting with ourselves

That’s what After Nine is about. I may not fully ascribe to everything the Anonymous programs typically stand for, but I do feel that this part of it works for me.

I feel that something in this universe knows more than me—can see farther than me—even if that something is nature, pure and simple. There is a future and a past where I do not exist. I exist right now, in the present. And right now, the present is a pretty uncertain place. Or maybe it’s the most certain place. 

In this moment, I know that I am sitting here, writing this post, choosing words.  I know those things.  I don’t know the future.  I don’t know how long I will be able to work for myself or even if I will be able to work for myself at all.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with music or if I will really find the new outlets I need.  I’m scared that I will not find what I need to make this life work.

But maybe a higher power will give me what I need instead.

Maybe I don’t have to know.  I am trying.  The bottom line is that I am putting one step in front of the other.  Even in my darkest times over the last few months, I did not stop getting up in the morning.  It became very difficult to do so, and I would procrastinate on taking that first shaky step out of bed in the morning. But I kept living life.

I gave it my best.  Yes, my best sucked a lot of the time, but I gave it. I am giving it.  I have goals for how many hours I want to work each day.  I have specific milestones I want to reach. But I don’t know if I will manage to work that many hours or reach those milestones.  I don’t know if I will achieve my goals, and I also don’t know if my goals are really what my goals should be.  I’ll go after them, but I hope that the universe/circumstance/God/Goddess/whatever takes me to the best place for me.

I keep thinking that Houston, Texas, does not reflect my values and isn’t nurturing me the way it once did.  Perhaps it’s time to move on.  However, Houston Community College has a great music production program that I want to complete, and I treasure my friends and other connections here. How will I know whether to stay or go?  Time will show me.

I canoed almost 15 miles down Buffalo Bayou last Saturday with some friends. I felt my smallness.  The boat wasn’t very big at all, but it was certainly bigger than I am.  The canoe seemed so insignificant compared to the trees and the steep, sloping sides of the bayou.  The sky was so much taller, and the city streets so much more massive than anything I have ever been or created.

I quit my job. I play music. I write.  I edit.  I look for work.  I look for ways to feel in touch with the world. That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing.  And a whole big world continually expands and engulfs all of it.

I’m glad I quit my job.  I’m glad that I can go anywhere in this big, wide world. I don’t know if it ever dawned on me so fully that I can truly go anywhere and do anything.  I’ve known that at an intellectual level, but I’ve never put it into practice.  Since I was a teenager, I’ve had a plan for everything.  I always follow the plan, and when the plan inevitably does not work out, I make another plan.  How about not making a plan?  I don’t mean discard my personal work schedule, goals, or other organizational tools.  But how about loosening my grip on those things?  How about life not being my plan, but instead, the way I do things?

Thinking about plans in that way helps me understand that I don’t know the outcome of what I’m doing.  I don’t know what will evolve out of my current efforts.  But my current efforts feel right.  I love writing.  I love inspiring others.  I love talking to other people about the things I’ve learned in life.  Perhaps these things will come together in a life I enjoy—in a life I want to live.

I’m going to die—eventually. But I’m going to live right now.  In my uncertain, unsteady, bewildered, inquisitive, sometimes frantic and afraid, sometimes peaceful and confident way, I’m going to live. I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and see where it takes me.  I’ve heard phrases like that for a long time.  Now, I’ve given myself a chance to really feel what the words mean. In a way, I want God to show me that she really is in control, that my life is okay.

I don’t want to binge and cry away my whole life. I want to write, travel, love, play music, give, and enjoy.  When I tell you that you can make any choice and do anything, I mean it.  Every decision ha consequences.  And guess what, I can deal with those consequences.  You can deal with those consequences.

I’m not going to tell everyone who hates their jobs to quit them. I am going to tell you to listen to your heart. Your heart knows when it’s dying and when it feels alive.  It knows how to live.  I don’t know how it knows, but it knows.  I feel it in my spirit.  I am shared out of my boots, shaking, weirded out, and totally puzzled by what I’ve done. But you know what? I’m allowed to make a giant mistake.  I’ve never let myself do anything that I thought would be a huge mistake, and even with that kind of forethought, I’ve still made too many mistakes to count.  I’ve always avoided any major choice that I thought could turn out very, very badly. 

Well, this time, I see the possibility of failure.  I recognize it.  And you know what?  It’s worth it.  Failing would be better than never trying at all.  At least I’ll be somewhere different when I hit bottom. And maybe that’s all my heart needs: something different.

Heart, I won’t let you die, especially not in front of a computer screen.

Play to Your Strengths

This weekend, I journeyed up to Liverpool, NY, to visit with the hearts and minds behind Ophelia’s Place (http://opheliasplace.org/) and their newest business that helps to foot the non-profit’s bill, Café at 407. As I’ve mentioned before, I long to create a community space where creativity, community, love, and spirit are nourished. Ophelia’s Place certainly does that! And I want to learn from the best.

With a front coffee/café area homey enough to make you want to stay and sip mocha for a week and a private room anyone in the nearby area would want to rent, Café at 407 welcomes the community into a space built for conversation. “Conversation about what?” some might ask. According to founder Mary Ellen Clausen, Café at 407 provides a venue to move discussions about calories and “good” and “bad” food choices toward true, authentic sharing about loving oneself and body.

I was able to take part in the annual fashion show Ophelia’s Place puts on as a fundraiser each year. It thrilled me to see models of all shapes and sizes take the stage, along with looks from superb local designer Cheryl Geiger (http://cherylgcollection.com/ - AMAZING!) as well as the local thrift store. Beauty is everywhere, and this show celebrated that.

I took the brief weekend trip to investigate what it takes to put on an event like the fashion show and to see how Ophelia’s Place operates in person. I was truly impressed. Ophelia’s Place is the non-profit foundation behind the physical space of Café at 407. Eating disorder recovery support groups meet there during the week, in the community room and in a special area in back. Comfy chairs, warm colors, quotes painted on the walls, and inviting and accessible recovery information speak the message of hope and healing loud and clear while welcoming people of all backgrounds. The fabulous food doesn’t hurt, either!

Behind the café, offices and additional rooms have been decorated and designated for therapeutic and administrative purposes. Ophelia’s Place partners with The Nutrition Clinic of Elmira, NY, (http://www.solstonecenter.com/) to provide nutritional counseling and support groups to those in need of professional recovery resources. The Nutrition Clinic itself offers unique care for people in transition from hospitalization to every-day life. By working together, both organizations are able to reach more people in the places where they need help.

I am truly amazed at what Mary Ellen Clausen and a bevy of other contributors have built, and this trip definitely gave me some perspective about what I want. The main thing I learned from the team that makes Ophelia’s Place so strong:

Play to your strengths.

This is one of many lessons from this weekend. Can I be a Mary Ellen Clausen, networking and planning and executing and go-go-going? No. But can I be Michelle Cowan and make things happen? Yes.

I was reminded of my personal stamina and the pace at which I like to operate. One of the other successful women there pointed out the disparity between the energies of some of the people around and her own. I couldn’t help but commiserate. We both get tired. We both want to get back to the creative stuff and out of the business end. We can make things happen and start balls rolling. We can network and travel and do anything necessary to make a splash in the world, but we’re exhausted at the end of it! We want to enjoy life, not live in a continual stress bubble. What is, for me, a strenuous pace is nothing to some other people. The key is knowing myself.

By seeing the work at Ophelia’s Place, I understand what I want a little better. I want to share my creative fruits with the world, and I want that sharing to stimulate others to create and connect. I don’t have to have a physical space for that yet—even though I hope to have one someday.

I can commit to fleshing out my online presence and selling a few songs. I have other ideas and ways to connect in mind, but I definitely see where my vision is headed. If I do open a café or community center of some sort, it will have a slightly broader scope than eating disorders alone. It will center around healthy body image, authentic living, community, and love.

I want to follow the “change the conversation” message of Ophelia’s Place. Wherever I am, I can create that space I envision. For now, I am gathering information on how different powerful people have grown their businesses and brought their ideas to fruition. I’m learning so much from the people I’m talking to, and I’m gaining a new appreciation for my creative and organizational skills. When I choose to put them into practice (and I emphasize that it is a choice utilization on my part), things happen—more than things, miracles.

For now, I’m getting some rest from a slightly harrowing but incredibly enlightening trip to and from New York, and I’m focusing on my own best qualities. How can I bring what I have into the world? And where do I need to ask for help?

I could leave off there, but that leads me into another lesson learned. Ophelia’s Place takes a village to thrive. Countless volunteers showed up for this event, and Mary Ellen works with a team to guide, direct, and grow Ophelia’s Place. She certainly has the vision and the powers of coordination, but others flesh out those visions with their unique blends of creative, logistical, and emotional talents.

I often forget that my weaknesses can be supplemented by the strengths of others. I don’t excel in every area, but I can find people who would love to give of themselves in ways I never could.

So, I continue to rest, evaluate what I have to offer, and search for comrades. Not a bad way to start the week!

Goals

At certain times in life, we devote ourselves to a particular goal. Applying for universities, training for a competition, completing a work project, and dealing with family crises require single-minded determination and commitment. I thrive on that kind of direction. As a task-oriented person, I appreciate anything that requires the outlining of steps and a systematic, wholehearted approach. No distractions. Priorities are clear. The actions that are best rise easily and promptly to the surface.

At other times, however, I feel as though I’m wandering aimlessly. I’m not trying to get into school; I’m not recovering from a trauma of any sort. I’m not called upon to help anyone or join an activist movement. I try to think of goals. I meditate and ask for direction, for desire, for guidance toward an area of focus, but I receive nothing.

I don’t necessarily dislike these times. As long as I feel content, goals mean nothing. I do crave a sense of accomplishment and achievement, and that desire eventually leads me to the adoption of a certain goal. I kind of prefer the quiet happiness of a life well lived. In the last few years, I’ve come face to face with how little “success” really matters.

Despite my semi-“enlightened” viewpoint, I can’t shake the feeling that the world looks down upon such aimlessness. Everyone (including a little part of me) expects me to have a purpose, or at least be striving toward the discovery of that purpose. This gets tough, especially now, as I look back upon many months, months that have turned into years, rather sparsely decorated with goal achievement of any kind.

Then again, I do see some of the goals I reached. To my ego’s dismay, most of those goals have been quite personal and internal, like overcoming fears, learning to love, appreciating the gifts of depression, and many times, just getting through the day. No one sees those. I don’t get paid any money or get many pats on the back for those things. It’s hard to build up that sense of accomplishment with intangibles (no matter how valuable they may be).

Now, I’m 27 years old. I’m considering returning to graduate school, but I don’t know what I want to study. Art history? Curatorial/museum studies? Comparative religion? Anthropology? I’m not sure. Do I want to move? Where? Do I want to change careers? How much effort do I want to put into music? Do I want to pursue it passionately? Do I need to complete the building of my own web site? Do I want to do more freelance editing and writing? How much time should I put into dance? What about my spiritual activities? What do I want to do?

With such a mountain of choices, I can’t think. I can’t pick one. Or rather, I don’t pick one. Instead, I slip in and out of each interest, knowing that if I commit to one, it would flourish. But I feel stymied in the face of decision “Just choose!” I tell myself – yes, in a very demanding tone. Unfortunately, that kind of pressure only makes it more difficult.

How do I escape the pressure from the world and within to strive after a particular goal? If the pressure were released, I have no doubt that my most authentic desires would take hold, and I could pursue something in a directed way.

How?

Focus on now, and focus on the goals I know I have: I want to love as best I can and accept love with grace. I want to bring my true self to the fore in all areas of life and remain honest in a kind way. I want to enjoy each moment to the fullest and share that joy with others. I want to walk through fear.

Those goals feel a little vague to me. Perhaps they need some refining to help me direct my energy. I’ll do that… probably. In the meantime, I see that if I can focus on those credos, I can have a happy life. I can feel accomplished. I can bring light to the world. It’s about affirming to myself that no yardstick that would dare measure me provides any kind of accurate estimate of my worth. It’s enough to simply love and enjoy life.

Still, that desire for accomplishment lingers. Can I trust that focusing on my more eternal goals will lead me toward authentic choices and a satisfying life path? I’m not sure if I even like the idea of a path! With me, the questions never end.

Nonetheless, I advocate choosing. Just choose. I still want to pick something to pursue. I want to love something enough that I’m willing to commit to my choice for more than a day. This skipping around between goals is wearing me down.

Maybe I need to bring my broader life goals back more firmly into consciousness. Maybe instead of asking for direction and looking for an answer in my quiet hours, I can meditate on the goals I already know I have, the truly important goals.

Ah, that sounds satisfying. That sounds like new way I haven’t tried yet. The key always seems to be perspective. Look at the issue in a new way, and the doors can fly open. We shall see. For now, I’m still learning to value the meandering trajectory as much as the beeline.