Haven't been blue or anything; I have, however, been feeling generally uninspired, which is why I haven't been around here much. I've poked my head around my regular reads, and it seems I'm not the only one who hasn't been feeling the updating vibe. I wish I would sign up for more of those artistic prompt websites like Self Portrait Challenge, Inspire Me Thursday, etc. I guess what I'm saying is I'm in need of some inspiration.
Costa Rica inspires me; that's why I posted this rainforest picture I captured on my honeymoom. Aren't these beautiful? If you've been to CR, you know this plant is no anomaly. I think it's some sort of bromeliad (pineapple cousin)...which, if you are a secret life sciences nerd like me, you know that bromeliads are the plant in the rainforest in which poison dart frogs lay their eggs. The rainforest is like a caricature for life; deep, humbling contrasts such as the shimmery reds and yellows of a tropical flower to the deadly tadpole that lies within its leaves...The great kapok tree to the tiny, insignificant people who stand in its wonder.
Speaking of insignificant in the scheme of things...Long story short, my "great new job" didn't work out. Don't worry, no one was fired by anyone, I left them, everyone's on good terms with everybody and nobody's mad at anybody. Nothing I should be sharing on even a mostly anonymous blog, so the short story is that I'm in a well-planned job search...meaning I'm financially prepared to wait several months in order to find the place where I really need to be. I don't regret going to the job where I was, and I don't regret leaving either. I followed my bliss, and now I just need to hold on. What is hard now is that I am in a waiting place...You remember the waiting place from Dr. Suess (Oh the Places You'll Go)...
"...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting."
Pretty surprising that my life (all of our lives, really) seems to be following a Dr. Suess story, bc I believe it hasn't been long since I referred to myself as being in Dr. Suess's "slump," or something like that. I've read ahead in this book, and it gets good in the end, so I guess it's all okay.
My point is that waiting is hard for me...bc it is vulnerability. I just want to 'fish or cut bait' with everything. Everything. I guess everyone is that way a little, at least. I've grown a little concerned about my issues with vulnerability, though, b/c I've realized it's more ubiquitous than I thought...
So, I tried to entertain the thought of, well, sharing my life in that way (not that this would matter for YEARS anyways), and I felt freaked.the.youknowwhat.out. One of the first thoughts that scared the youknowwhat out of me was that if I did have kids, I should have at least four, bc then the handicapped one would get taken care of by the others. WHY am I assuming I'd have a handicapped kid, like my brother? How shameful is it that I would almost not have kids just bc I would be so afraid of having one like him? You know what's interesting...My dad (who has been through WAY more than me) totally did this. He went through the humility, heart break and heart warming roller coaster that is caring for Tyler, and he went on to have two other kids, knowing either or both of them could have ended up just like Tyler. The thought makes my heart beat in my throat, and then there's the guilt from thinking it in the first place. There's a good chance that I was dead on the whole time with the kid thing, but I feel I owe it to myself to be more alive, to scrutinize my intentions.
No special ending, really....the thought is really as incomplete as it seems.
*****
Cross your fingers for me that the teaching job will come along again, though...I miss it desperately. Ironically, it is the humility, the right conditions for spiritual growith, that I love so much about teaching. I don't know if I mentioned this, but I decided not to do the social work master's and went for literacy specialist instead, which I am loving. As it turns out, and as I believe it is for many educators, teaching IS my social work. Teaching.has.my.soul. I think other jobs will probably have my soul someday, but now I know teaching is where I need to be. I truly miss it right now, in an " I could cry" sort of way. More than anything, i'm just feeling blessed to know that there is something out there that I truly love to do and that pays my bills AND leaves me feeling incredibly blessed (sometimes through clouds of stress) at the same time.
