I am back in NYC for a full month attempting to learn poems, learn patience and learn humility. I would along the way like to take on less anger. Perhaps that is the flip side of patience, as in can you really be angry if you are patient? That might be a question for the gurus or sages among us.
So today I took my Whitman and walked to the waterfront to meet a friend who didn’t show, as she had mistakenly marked the walk in another calendar. And so I plodded alone and reverted to reciting my committed to memory Mary Oliver, Wild Geese over and over and I waited for the world to offer itself to my imagination.
My imagination is still in foment, as I seem to see me in so many wonderful yet wildly divergent jobs, all of which lately are cropping up on web sites or in referrals from friends. In working with the career coach, she advised me to have a sentence which I repeat, mantra-like to imprint the firm notion that
I HAVE AN EXCITING, WELL PLAYING JOB, WITH BENEFITS AND THE COMPANY OF COLLEAGUES I ENJOY. That’s not too much is it?
And then my most faithful reader sent me a 3 minute coaching mantra, which boiled down to its essence, of 30 seconds is this: in life there are two times only
This has been amazing; because when I am in a spin I realize it is about what I did in the past or what might happen in the future. However when I lie in the grass, with my three-year-old goddaughter and I read my Leaves of Grass and the breeze wafts and dinner waits at home, because I cooked it, then the terror fades.
I am not advocating becoming a stoner who is only lying on her back looking at the cloud shapes and imagining a real life. I am attempting to find a parenthesis from terror and worry and there are so many wonderful moments in the here and now that it helps me take deep breaths and send out resumes or make a breezy phone call to a potential employer.
Grass, it seems takes many forms.