Sick days are one of the things the modern world has done best. There is little sweeter then exchanging the drudgery of work for old movies, pajamas, and maybe a trip to the gas station down the street for beer and frozen pizza. The couple blocks to the gas station are a decidedly more pleasant commute then a scorching 100 degree Austin bike ride, or a 45 minute Seattle bus ride at 7:00 am in the pouring rain. I have always relished sick days, in particular the ones I took not actually because I was ill, but because I knew I needed to pause, and take better care of myself for a day.
At the moment, I do not have a job where I can call in sick easily, as retail and customer service comes with no real structure to support the tired, sick, or burnt out employee. That said, I was immensely tickled by an email that a co-worker sent out several weeks ago, in which she described a dream wherein she called in sick with "a case of the muppets." In her dream, she called our boss and told him she could not come into work that day, because she had begun acting like a muppet AND COULD NOT STOP.
I love this! Why had I not realized this was an affliction up until now! I've had this disease since I was about 4 years old.
While I am an intensely practical person, and fully value the necessity of work to pay bills and make rent, I think in my heart I am a dillettante. I would rather read Billy Collins and admire my folk music collection all day then punch into the clock for 8 hours. I would rather practice making Foccacia bread then grade another teacher's spelling quizzes.
I think this mix of pragmatism combined with the ability to spend hours leisurely staring at blades of grass comes directly from my folks. My Pops retired this week, after 32 years of working for the Department of Transportation. When I was little he would bring home treasures he found while working on the freeway in Seattle: stickers, dining room table chairs, even his favorite pair of loafers. He woke up at 4:00 am every morning, and was usually home by the time we were getting off the school bus. He and my Mom supported the family through our childhood and adolescence, and I have so much respect for the sacrifices he made, and the dedication with which they raised us. In the evenings he would walk the dog, listen to Dylan, or The Allman Brother's Eat a Peach, play guitar, sit on the porch, spend time with his kids. Now that his retirement is official and the endless weekend has begun, he tells us his plans are the same.
Pa- "Walk the dog, go on E-bay, play guitar."
Ma- "Is that really your plan for the next twenty years?"
Pa- "Yes."
I am so thankful that my father has this opportunity now- to read, watch the crows flying through suburbs, road trip to Austin, have his life be his own again.
In terms of my own relationship with work, it was enlightening to realize that the time had come to make a change. The bare truth is that many parts of our lives- work, the place we live, relationships, and especially old patterns, serve their purpose. There is a time and place for them, but many of us (myself included) have troubling knowing when the time has come to move on. (For more inspiration, please see Tom Petty's album Wildflowers.)
On a deeper level, there are times when these old habits of fearing change, and the unknown, become detrimental. We get stuck- at a job, in a city, a relationship, a way of being. We must still be responsible- recklessness is different then risk taking. That said, there are times when we have a case of the muppets, and instead of ignoring it, we must listen.
I quit my grocery store job this week, and will soon be in search of other work. For a few short weeks, however, I will eat rice and beans, and weed the garden for hours. I will finally get around to reading East of Eden and Lonesome Dove, and enjoy the last few weeks of summer.
I imagined calling my boss, and yelling over the phone- "I can't come in. I got a nose job and changed my name to Gonzo! I'm wearing a bear suit and I decided to become a stand up comedian! OR My boyfriend turned into a frog. We bought a Studebaker and are setting off to see America!"
A mentor of mine once told me that our great work is to follow our heart, not our fear. When we realize we are putting ourselves in situations that compromise our basic needs for sleep, exercise, and overall health, this is a sign that we haven't heeded the call. Fear helps us stay put, it's logical and powerful. Heart is trickier- it might be just a whisper at first, and we may want to quiet the voice, since listening means throwing ourselves back into uncertainty, or towards a path that is rarely filled with light. Rather, it is shrouded in both mystery and possibility.
Next week I am headed to New Mexico to do a little soul searching (and camping) with Steven. Looking forward to Santa Fe sunsets, a friend's place in Taos, maybe some banjo playing along the way. We'll be looking for that giant fork in the road, and I hope we find it.
