the Village Knittiot

The past three weeks have been among the busiest I have had since I started working from home. The week before last, I put in a 65 (and I’m being a bit conservative here, I think) hour work week. When I hit Thursday evening and realized I had already already worked 40 hours and I had a good 30 hours of work left to accomplish, I cried. A lot. Exhaustion will do that to you.

I’m sure it won’t surprise you to learn that I have a hard time saying no to extra responsibilities and an even harder time asking for help, but that Thursday evening I sat down and wrote an SOS e-mail saying that if I was going to meet any of my deadlines, they had to back off and give me some room to breathe so I could get it done. The response was positive and I was given the space and time I needed to meet one of the more important deadlines. Of course, I still put in another 25 hours worth of work, but it was a much more pleasant 25 hours than it would otherwise have been.

In the midst of all this, there was a lot of reactionary bemoaning of my job and thoughts about the lack of fulfillment I feel in this type of work and blah, blah, blah. I have a colleague with whom I have frequent discussions about the pursuit of finding our path and figuring out where we fit in and how to gain a career with a sense of purpose and meaning. There are times where I want to be very dismissive with her, as I feel I have had to be with myself, and talk about the nature of life and work and how nobody likes it but its just what we all have to do. But I also recognize that what is going on here is not the customary whining of a generation who doesn’t want to work for anything. It is the general discontent of two people willing to work our asses off to make an impact on the world, who are feeling instead as if we are trapped in a soulless system like two cogs in the machinations of the world. And it is more in our nature to be revolutionaries, involved in the recreation of the world as it should be. Yet we are also responsible people. People who take our obligations to be productive members of our community seriously. And because of that, we feel stuck in a structure that keeps us unhappy and trapped in the endless cycle of abuse that is the corporate environment.

After getting off the phone with her one evening sometime over the last few weeks, I sat down with my notebook and a pen and started writing down some of my thoughts. As I was writing about the longing I feel for something more meaningful, something to devote my life to, a desire for a sense of purpose and above all how I want to find a path for myself that I can pour my heart and life into, I realized something. I do not need to find a path, I’m on a path. And in fact I am my path.

This simple idea suddenly opened up my eyes to what an amazing opportunity is sitting right in front of me. It isn’t that I haven’t been taking advantage of the opportunity, but I certainly haven’t been fully appreciating it. Up until now, I think I’ve been seeing all the work I’m doing on myself as something I should have figured out years ago and that if only I had done this earlier, maybe I would know what my path was and already be thoroughly immersed in my life’s work. I’ve looked at those around me who seem to be on a solid path and I want that for myself. Maybe they want to become a doctor or a musician or a teacher or an artist. Maybe the path is clear for them and maybe it requires some creativity and a little improvisation. Whatever it is, this imagined path (which I realize seems much more straightforward to an observer than it does to the sojourner), they start down their path and because they know their path, they can follow it and focus on it. What I had failed to consider is that sometimes when your path is so clear you don’t necessarily have to know your own self because you know your path. Only, the truth is, you are your path and the two are inextricably linked. Ignore one and you lose sight of the other.

So, when something happens, a tragedy that disrupts the known path and forces you to stop or find another way, such as the amazing athlete who loses the ability to compete or the doctor who arrives at the destination only to feel empty and exhausted and unfulfilled, you are only left with yourself and the realization that you are the path. And in that instant you are faced with an overwhelming task of self-discovery. This is not a punishment, this is a gift, because until I am satisfied with just being me, I will never be satisfied with any path I take, because at that heart of it all, I am my path.

I realized all of these attempts to figure out where I belong is approaching the path from the wrong direction. I am where I belong, because I am here. Finding the path is learning who I am. And until I am happy being just me, without the external costume of a purpose and a meaningful career, I will never feel like I am on the path.

This small realization was like putting in a giant new window on my soul and I pushed through those last 25 hours and then had another demanding week to survive, but with each accomplishment I was increasingly pleased. I noted the personal sense of gratification I felt and took pride in my work, because I took pride in myself. It was a profound feeling.

I am where I am supposed to be simply because I am here.

I am currently living as if neglect were a lifestyle. I am neglecting my house, my friends, my blog and, to some extent, myself. I am eating, sleeping and breathing work. My personal inbox is stuffed full of e-mails I haven’t had a chance to get to and I actually went to bed the last two nights with dishes in the sink — not the same dishes, but dishes nonetheless. If you are one of those lovely people who have sent me an e-mail and I haven’t responded, please forgive me. Things should be back to normal in just a few weeks.