Thursday, June 2, 2011

. . . I Wanna Bang on My Drum All Day



At camp, people pay for the chance to hang from a rope and climb a wall. We watch and think, "How lucky that guy is!" Today, the dude dangling at the 5th floor window of the building behind mine elicits a different response. "How lucky I am not to be that guy!"

What differentiates work from play? The window washer makes me think geography and a paycheck are the main culprits. It's a shame to know nothing can bleed the thrill from an activity faster than getting paid for it (or, to be fair, having to get paid for it).

Over the past few months, anxiety about an uncertain future has been weighing on me. How does a single mother who spent the better part of five years as a stay-at-home camp mama position herself to support her child? I mean, how does she do it anywhere, let alone in the competitive, crowded job market of the DMV?

An increased salary means creating bigger job than the one I have. Because of this, I have begun to chart a course of action. No one out there is going to care that I have good reasons for a weak resume. It’s time to run that puppy through boot camp and build some solid muscle. This requires research, contingency plans, truckloads of advice. It demands thinking and planning and reflection. All of this, I have taken on with the fervor of the truly desperate.

A solid plan exacts its price. I had not noticed that by zeroing in on a goal, I was also wearing myself thin. Gentle dreams, finally restored after nine months of insomnia last year, were beginning to rattle with tsunamis and predators. My voice was growing louder. Keys were lost, appointments dropped, and I caught myself rolling my eyes in the vicinity of people who deserve better.

This is no recipe for professional success. In my quest to prepare myself for a future career, I was overlooking the career solidly in my grasp.

Right here in my hands is a job many would love to land: a supportive, student-oriented, opportunity-rich position in a well-run department with a boss who should be training the universe in superior boss-dom. This job here is paying the bills and paving the way. Because of this work, I am able to cobble together a vision of that future with its pots of gold, its milk and honey. I don’t get there by blasting past this. I get there by doing this.

Doing this one thing.

Like any job, mine has its moments of drudgery. However, I chose this position because it feeds me, in every sense of the word. It is only when I begin to count the dollar value of the minutes that I begin to curl my lip at the work. When I feel far from Bug, wishing I could meet him for lunch or commute home with him, I despair about my situation. What dark magic turns the gratitude into grumpiness? 

Geography and a paycheck.

The work is only toil when looking forever beyond it. Quieting the comparisons, thoughts, and research allows for taking pleasure in the activities that fill a day. It is possible to set the planning into a crate for unpacking when the time is right. This frees me up to go into the office each morning with my eyes and mind on what is before me. The reflective journal awaits me at my desk, and I write through projects and improvements for the day. Next comes a priority list, and, finally, leaping into the first item with a can-do attitude and a warm smile. 

As my co-workers arrive, they can hear sunny welcomes from my office and inquiries that bring out their best hopes for the day. Students and colleagues come with their requests. I seek to serve as a resource and to make their experience of the university (through me) a positive one.

Nothing else needs my attention. Shannon the Struggling Mother has left the building. She has been replaced by Shannon the Assistant Director for PhD Student Services (or, as I like to think of her, Shannon the Kick-Ass, Smokin’ Hot PhD Lady).

The spirit I embody at work contributes as much – perhaps more –  to my future prospects as any dozen plans for career advancement. Here, success is within reach. It is play. It is the wide arc of a rope swinging across the sky.  It is a single, elegant stroke of the brush.

My job is joy. With full attention, I will breathe delight into this one thing.

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