Earhquakes, Jobs, and Other Changes

April was a busy month.

I survived the earthquake in Illinois. I started a job. I lost the job. I sort of have another job.

There isn't much to say about the earthquake. What can you say about that anyhow? You wake up, your bed is shaking, you don't hear a train going by. You know that if you get up you will feel even less secure; you're used to trains shaking your furniture, but it feels distinctly scary to have the ground trembling under your feet. You just lie there and hold your breath until it stops, then you heave a great sigh of relief and turn over and go back to sleep.

But there is a lot to say about jobs.

I wound up with two offers. One required a 57-mile one-way commute, the other a 10-mile one-way commute. I took the one with the short commute. I was invited to call the other place back if the job I took didn't work out.

Well, it didn't. It was a classic case of a "bad fit." Generally I can learn a job with sufficient training and practice and time. Those things weren't available for once. A corporation, as long as you show potential, will give you enough time; anywhere from three to six months is what it can take for you to learn a job. But this time, after a little over three weeks, with three hours of training and no experience or direct supervision, I was out.

I know the theories. You don't lose something until you no longer need it. You manifest it, you don't like it, and you decide to manifest again. I know all that. It still felt like I'd had something within my grasp and it was snatched away. It has been hard to deal with.

But it was not a good fit. When friends asked me how my job was going, I would say either "She hasn't fired me yet" or "It feels less strange every week." I was alone in a three-room office, and I felt cramped, confined. I am used to having people around me at work, and there was nobody there but me. I never said, "I don't like this," but I wasn't at peace with it. Even so, with more time and support I could have learned it, could have adjusted.

I'm not sorry I tried it. I guess some types of jobs aren't as learnable as I thought. I learned some things. Heard some interesting stories.

But I took the other place up on their invitation. I called them the next day. There is a place for me, but - as has been the history with this place - I don't know exactly when it will be available. Probably sometime this month, but precisely when is unsure right now. I am almost out of resources and I can only trust it will be sooner rather than later.

A cat, when it falls, will land on its feet. Maybe I have done that myself.

On the other hand, I face such an expensive commuting situation that I am seriously thinking of downsizing. A smaller place to live, lower rent, some of the utilities included in the rent. Losing the garage for my car, losing my lovely backyard that I have enjoyed watching the last year and a half, going back to an apartment. Again, the labor of moving.

But none of that seems as important as the spiritual growth I have experienced here in this tiny house. I am reluctant to leave here and go on to the kind of life I will have with a two-plus-hour drivetime every day and no backyard to come home to. Can I manage to stay in touch with the small moments that have taught me so much? Will my life be all hustle and bustle with no opportunity for the contemplative pursuits that feed me?

And beyond all of that, I have chosen to share my experiences and wisdom (such as they may be) on a full-time basis, somehow, and none of the jobs I agonize about seems to offer me any way to do that. Yet I believe my choices will come to pass. That remains an open question. I was wondering, for a few days, if that will actually happen, but now I am regaining my peace with it.

Stay tuned.