Foiled again…or, would you like some cheese with that whine?

Foiled:  To prevent from being successful; to thwart.

I swear, there’s a conspiracy. Because, really – I just don’t get it. Maybe it’s my destiny? Perhaps I have a subconscious need to fail? I was born under a bad sign? I’m being tested…Someone has to flunk out…why not me?

I awoke in a bit of a funk this morning. It happens occasionally. As a rule I try to avoid thinking about this stuff, but sometimes it has its way with me. Today must be that day.

Since this is my blog and there are only about three people actually who read it, allow me to wallow whine for a few moments without guilt.

I’ve always liked the story about the Phoenix rising from the ashes. You know, that mythical bird whose life burns fiercely at the end and is reduced to ashes? But from the ashes, a new phoenix egg is hatched and the phoenix rises to live again; a resurrection of sorts or a miraculous comeback. There are a few different versions but the one I like best is where “the new phoenix embalms the ashes of its old self in an egg made of myrrh and deposits it in the Egyptian city of Heliopolis (sun city in Greek)” (Wikipedia). It is said that the bird's tears contain healing abilities of pureness, and their cry is that of a beautiful song.

Anyway, I have liked to apply that scenario to my own life (delusions of grandeur?). I have believed that hard work, energy, determination and ambition would somehow bring about that “rebirth” that I was looking for. I would overcome my humble and misguided beginnings. Damn it all, I was going to prove something, although now, for the life of me, I can’t say exactly what.

I realized early, albeit not early enough, that I had to do something to ensure that I would never have to depend on another person for survival again. It became my mission.

I’m a musician - at heart - primarily a singer. It’s in my blood, my family line – it’s me. I wanted to learn an instrument and took a few piano lessons but felt I needed to work toward something with which I could support myself and my family after a divorce in my 20’s left me with 2 small children, a home, no child support and a $7 per hour job. So I went to school..for 20 years on an off. I took advantage of government programs for single moms. After I remarried, I took out federal loans to continue because after all, I was making sure I could fend for myself. I wanted to major in music but couldn’t see how I could support us on a musician’s salary. I also longed to study psychology but thought it was a tenuous link to a decent financial future. I chose human resource development, not because I loved the idea, but because it sounded doable. So many manufacturing companies in the area that would need HR people. I obtained a degree in HR, not quite making it into the field – somehow still stuck at the insurance agency. But no problem!  Surely a master’s degree would be the thing. So, I got a master’s in training and development because it was easy – I could continue on at Oakland University and attend off campus sites which was easier for me with my full time job. Additionally, Instructional design, the emphasis I chose, had the possibility of earning a nice sum in the future.

Fast forward to the future – 2009. I graduated 3 years ago. I am still working for the same small insurance agency that I have been at for almost 22 years. I cannot, I repeat, CANNOT, get into my field. In fact, I cannot seem to get into another job anywhere. It is not for lack of trying by the way (ok, not trying that hard lately).

I am not doing any music…I suppose I should be but I don’t know how anymore. I don’t want to go to church and I don’t want to sing worship music. I don’t play an instrument and there’s not a huge market for 53 year old singers who don’t even have their own repertoire and/or instrument. Yeah, boo hoo.

I am very interested in social activism and work on the fringes with a group that is currently being revitalized but I somehow feel lost there as well.

I have concluded that I have wasted so much precious time and energy doing things I felt I was supposed to do, that were supposed to help me get started on my path to ……I don’t know what…somewhere, but instead, find myself running up against my old nemesis yet again; the stone wall.

I still have desire to work, be successful, do things I love, but I may be running out of energy, willpower and vision. Don't get me wrong, there are many wonderful things about my life, but for this particular pity party I'm focusing on my work/creative life. 


As is often the case, I’ve learned my lessons well and I know what mistakes I’ve made…now! I have discovered them just a bit too late. Well, in truth, it’s probably never too late to figure out what you did wrong…but hey, this is my whine okay? While there is life left to salvage and while I’m still one to make the best of a situation, i.e. … taking lemons and making lemonade, the sadness over what could have been lingers and as I am wont to do, I revisit the losses occasionally and entertain a moment of mourning self-pity.

Foiled again. Worst of all...foiled by my own choices or lack thereof. 

But wait, there it is…that teeny part of me that is an eternal optimist (I hate her sometimes). But she’s in there nonetheless. That’s the part that makes me try again. So, like that frickin’ phoenix, I will dig myself up out of those ashes, metaphorically speaking, and rise again.  Well, at least, I'll keep on trying.  Ghaaa!

Magic

Is there really no magic? I’ve entertained magical thinking all of my life. I didn’t realize I was still doing it until recently. When you’re little, you are taught to believe in magic. You know - Santa, the Easter bunny, tooth fairy and the like. You slowly begin to see that it isn’t quite so, which really kind of sucks. I beat up the little boy who told me there was no Santa when I was seven. I reallllly believed and besides, my mother wouldn’t lie to me! But there I was, sitting on my mom’s lap crying about Santa after my mom came clean and told me that he didn’t exist, at least not in the way I’d been led to believe. For a few years afterwards, I even tried to pretend there still was a Santa at Christmas time, but it wasn’t the same – my eyes had been opened. But you survive. It’s all kid stuff, right? Then there’s church. A whole new set of stuff to believe in that you can’t see. I have this picture of Jesus in a small glass frame that I was given at the age of 4. His eyes follow you wherever you move. I still have it. Being an only child, I spent a lot of alone time with that picture, talking to it, imagining Jesus talking back, joking around with it and taking comfort from it when I was scared or sad. He was my friend. I went to Catholic church and school, and absorbed all of those teachings. It was nice.

As Ive mentioned in prior posts, I spent 10 plus years as a Christian fundamentalist in my early 20’s and 30’s – a realm of magical thinking, most scary in the long run, and the one that may have had the most profound effect on me. I’ve heard every kind of magical thinking in that environment, partook of it myself and did not come away unscathed. When I removed myself from that environment, all hell broke loose as it were. I didn’t know what to believe or trust and eventually hung up on God for quite a while.

Life is different now. I guess my natural cynicism has resurfaced, but in a good way, I think. I’ve come to realize that our built in instincts are okay – even God given. They are put there for a reason to help us make sense of our world. I’ve realized that just believing something, no matter how much you want it to be true, doesn’t make it so. And rather than that truth being disappointing and upsetting, it is instead freeing and comforting. There doesn’t have to be an answer for everything and certainly all truth is not contained in the pages of one small book written by men. Now, for me, the creator of this universe is not some bigoted, giant, narcissistic entity, that demands all and treats us as pitiful, helpless and hapless creatures that can't make a decision for ourselves. Instead, the entity is one I trust and take comfort in, knowing that his design will not fail in the long run, no matter what it is; that I don’t have to know the whole mystery; understanding that all of the energy and life force is there inside of me for me to use for good, and is made up of and part of that creator; positive that his design is not so exclusive as to banish all who don’t lock in to one narrow perspective.

Still, I persist in my search for magic – little glimmers of fairy dust; proof that I am uniquely singled out, for, or to witness the magical whatever it may be. This past week has been a particularly tough one for me. I found myself on Friday attending a party of one, indulging briefly in light servings of self pity. I lost the dream, there is no magic - woe is me......I challenged God to show me the magic! I knew he would. I didn't have anything in particular in mind - just something magical. He did not come through. It’s true that old habits die hard and having been born and bred to expect it, I still wait for it now and then, often disappointed. And yet, that is part of the wonder of waiting for that special dispensation that may never come, or be recognized if it does. In the meantime, I try to live in the present moment which is what I make of it; and in that, there is peace, and a great measure of comfort, knowing that I don’t have to kick any ass for anyone else breaking my bubble, or lament over the disappointment of dreams that did not magically come true. I can choose to see magic in the smiles of my friends, the love of my family, and the little wonders and opportunities that come along happenstance to do good in the life of another soul. I can be grateful for the good things in my life. And, I can just be me working toward my own dreams and enjoying each moment that passes if I dare to do so. Even so, the child inside lingers on. I’ll still wish on stars and look for magic dust in the little corners of my life. But that will be my little secret.