For years, I was self employed. Not the glamorous kind of self-employed, but the kind that puts you into utter poverty. It took coming close to bankruptcy for me to get a job.
However, the thing that broke the camel’s back and got me off my ass looking for a job was not the fear of going bankrupt, which isn’t to say that it wasn’t a big motivating factor. No, it was actually the isolation. I realized just how cut-off and isolated I was from the world. The loneliness wasn’t the problem, but living a life that felt constricting and less-than was.
At the time, I desperately desired to fly freely with my proverbial wings stretched wide and finally come into my own. So I decided that it was time for me to integrate myself into society and explore the world at large. For this to come to pass, I was certain that getting a job was the next step for me.
To continue the story, I got the perfect job (hooray!) Through incredible synchronicity, I was lucky enough to get a job that solves my financial troubles, one where the people are nice, one that’s located in the perfect spot in north bay San Francisco, and one that allowed me to live in a condo that has a breathtaking view. It felt like the universe had conspired to smoke me out of the tiny hole I had burrowed in for years, and out to a world where milk and honey flowed freely.
I couldn’t have asked for more, and I was beside myself with joy and anticipation.
The day I started my new job, I was revved up to go, and quite determined to make my mark. I was going to show the world the force that is me, and fly freely up, up and away! I was so ready.
… And fast forward two months later, I’m still waiting to, well, fly.
C’mon, any minute now.
It’s just around the corner.
Still waiting.
More waiting.
No flight taken off yet.
I’m in position.
Anytime now.
And that’s where I am currently stuck. On waiting.
You see, my manager hasn’t given me any work yet. Even though I’ve asked for something to do, he hasn’t given me a project to work on. I come to work, sit at my desk without having anything to do, and I wait miserably, bored out of my freaking mind. I can’t even surf the net, because I have to look like I’m doing something productive. After all, this company is paying me a lot of money. So I try to look like I’m busy when I’m not by having random excel files open.
A side comment here: apparently, wasting people’s talents, not to mention the company’s money, like this is not so uncommon, according to the research I did on the web. If you’re interested, just google ‘Manager not giving me work.’
This is craziness, if you ask me.
Anyways, after waiting like this for months, I’m getting frustrated out of my mind. As it always is, frustration is always accompanied by internal mind-ranting:
Will this waiting never end?!
What does it even mean to fly?
As I’m writing this, I find myself contemplating on what it is I’m waiting for, I mean truly. If it’s flying I’m waiting for, what does it mean to me to be free, to fly?
It suddenly dawns on me that I had never asked this questions to myself. I’ve singlemindedly been chasing after this vague sense of idea of “flying” without defining clearly to myself what it is I’m ultimately chasing after.
If I ask my parents, they would say that they’d know I’m flying when I’m debt free and earning a lot of money. According to their definition, I should feel like I’m on my way or at least feel like I’ve taken off: I have a six-figure salary, and though I still have debt, I am paying it off as diligently as possible. And because I don’t have to cut corners anymore, my life is more convenient now. But do I feel free now? It’s definitely an upward movement, but I don’t know if I could say that I’ve reached the status of “flying.”
Am I just an ingrate who can’t be satisfied with anything?
Becoming free by making a lot of money is one way to go, but I wonder if that would give me the freedom I seek. Wouldn’t it just make me dependent on money, in that, if the money goes, then wouldn’t my freedom also? I wouldn’t be truly free of anything, and whatever salvation money conceivably gives wouldn’t be permanent. In the worst case possible, our relationship would mimic a relationship between a cruel seductress and a desperate man: while money assents to be with me, I would feel an incredible ecstasy, but if its whims turn, I would start to panic, crying and begging desperately for it to come back to me. This kind of dependency on money, I would be seeking validation of my worth through money.
If I want to fly… there must be something I want to fly away from. What would that be? What is it that’s constricting me?
What it means to be free?
The “flying” I want to do isn’t something that can be seen outwardly.
Really, I don’t want to fly by earning a lot of money or being the best in my field or being the object of envy, although, I can’t deny, my ego is very much looking forward to those perks once I do take off.
If that was why I want to fly, that would be like me saying that I want to take the plane to taste the honey roasted peanuts they serve.
Uh, no. Them nuts ain't the point, pokeweed.
I think I just want to be free of myself. I want to be free of all the ego, from the programming I received from people as I grew up, and from the fear and self-degrading thoughts, so that I could be free to be myself whoever I’m with or whatever I’m doing.
If I could achieve this, I would be at home wherever I go.
Essentially, I came all this way to SF to break free from myself. I came all this way to struggle with fear-based beliefs in order to figure out what in me is holding me from being at home anywhere.
Learning to be home, wherever I am, whoever I’m with, and in whatever situation I’m in… that would be freeing. That would be learning to truly fly.
Being at home wherever I am is to know that anything that goes on is ok.
At home, I’m in my tattered PJs, and I wear my broken glasses I’ve scotch taped into place. I conveniently forget brushing my teeth or taking a shower. At home, my hair resembles an intricate bird’s nest. I don’t hesitate to eat my cereal in the biggest mug I can find if all my dishes are dirty in the sink, and I drink water by tilting my head and pouring the bottle directly into my throat, to save me the trouble of washing cups. I burp and let one rip anytime I want, and I invent ridiculous songs and moves that looks much like grebe the water bird’s mating ritual.
Tell me I’m not alone in this.
But because I’m home, I feel free to do anything since anything that goes on at home is perfectly ok.
I think most people walk around as if something potentially cataclysmic could happen at any given moment when they’re out in the world, myself not excluded. That’s why we watch with heightened sensitivity for potential threats, such as, judgmental words spoken mindlessly by a person we trusted or a finger gesture thrown in anger by a drive-by nincompoop. Any of these can ruin our day, and so out in the world, we’re tense and vigilant with shields raised high and our swords flailing at every shadow. We just can’t be our playful selves out in the world.
So my theory is this: if I could just act like whatever is going on in the world is not a potential threat but is perfectly ok, then I would feel that the world is my home. If I could stop making judgments on anything that comes to pass and accept that whatever good or bad affair takes place is ok, that I’m ok, that we’re all ok, and that nothing real can be truly damaged, then we could all just relax. We could put down our swords, we could put down our shields, and we could put down our tension.
I would feel free to act as I am, silly and all.
I’m not going to try to control the outcome.
I have this fear of letting go of control. I’m truly afraid that if I let go and let God, then I won’t end up getting what I want at the end. It feels like the more I stay focused on the end goal however trying or however painful, the more I’ll feel like I deserve the reward when it finally comes. It’s like me force feeding myself broccoli and brussels sprouts, because I know the dessert comes when all the veggies are gone.
It’s something worth reflecting on.
If I give up trying to control the outcome, then I would be able to focus on the present, today, this very moment. This very moment, I’m fine, writing and contemplating. This very moment, I’m content. This very moment, I feel connected.
The outcome will be what it will be, and I don’t need it to be exactly how I envision it in my head. In fact, it might not be a good idea to have the outcome turn out exactly how I envision it, since it would be limiting it to what I do conceive within the confines of my imagination and of what I know. If I want new experiences, then I definitely don’t want the outcome to reflect something that my head musters up since it tends to draw from my previous experiences, experiences that are deemed safe and within my comfort zone.
I gotta leave the outcome to God.
And as for the simple mortal that is me, without wanting to control the outcome, I would feel free to focus on the now.
So what does it mean to be free? What does it mean to fly?
Being at home wherever you are. Being free from results and outcome. I think that's what true flying would be.
So as to work and my manager not giving me any work, well, I would have to ask myself what I would do if I was completely at home and not dependent on the results. I think I'll just be free to focus on the now and know that whatever comes out of this job is not my concern. After all, all good and bad things pass with time.
