winter landscape

The Sunday School Teacher Who Raised A Heathen Fool ~ Letters To The Prettiest Girl In Town ~ 3

At some point I came to this conclusion that the universe, or my sub-conscious self, or whatever, well, it musta had plans for me. There was this thing I had to do, a place I had to be, a mindset maybe, because over and over whenever I had thought I had found the way, the career, POOF. Every time, without fail, the contract ends, the test market is over, the government cuts funding, the company does lay-offs, over and over since my early twenties.

Some more painful than others, some broke my heart when they ended, through generally no fault of my own, what will be will be and all that… seems to have become the theme of my life.

Even back at BealArt, and you wanted me to go there SOOOOoo badly. And I did too. I knew I had something creative inside me, just as you had, and I knew that come hell or high water, you were going to make sure that at least I had the chance to explore it, as you had not.

So, went in thinking I’d be a Graphic Artist, came out a Photographer. Yet, convention stuck its foot out… and next arrived the husband, and a decade later the ex-husband, and I lost my way.

So forth, and on ward, and at some point, at some speck in time, I looked at with the perspective of time, and distance, years later, and saw that the powers that be, or deep down inside me, there is this thing I must do, or to be.

A purpose, a plan, a calling?

Right now I wait to find out the fate of my teeth, then wait for EI (employment insurance) to kick in.

My mental self, well she lays inside staring at me with accusing eyes, as if this is something I already know, deep inside, and why on earth don’t I just go and do it?

And I know, or think I know, maybe I know. I don’t know.

So, no solution but to peruse the list and begin with whichever one terrifies me the most, and go for it next, eh?

Which, is my modus operandi this cycle, as I slowly learn to use the force within, the gut instinct, that thing inside who would seem to have some blawdy agenda, and to hell in a handbasket for whatever I had in mind. Whatever logical course of action the average Josephine would go for, the good job, the security, the way to pay the bills… I am not doing the friggen Lucy and Charlie Brown with the football… not falling for that shtick again.

Honestly, you will be the first to know once I know I’m right.

Now that I’ve started writing to you again, mom, I feel compelled, more and more. So much to say that I rumble through my day, thinking of all the things I want to say, need to say, have to say, it spills out of me.

Marinated inside for a spell, I all at once catch a few words as they drift by, then a sentence appears, a paragraph, and once again I am pouring my heart out, in a whoosh.

Sometimes I find almost difficult to keep up, as the words fly out of me, the thoughts, the sense, the feelings surge and a deluge occurs.

I can almost see you, think I know what you would say… like I am again at the kitchen table at the yellow brick house, you at the sink. A mist of you in my minds eye, offering the compromise, asking me to consider, the risk… but would you?

What would you say to me right now? What would be your advice?

Well, I don’t even know what I’m thinking, so that’s just a mirage itself. I’m dancing, swaying to the flow of thoughts, doing what needs to be done, making lists, checking them twice, doing the things, thinking ahead, but underneath is this pull of the universe, a surge of inspiration, and I missed it.

I missed you.

Now don’t worry, the logical course has to play some role in my grand plans for my retirement years, or it probably just won’t work. Probably. I’m no fool anymore.

This is what this is all about, after all. Retirement age is just 12 or so years away, and I need streams of income that are relatively sedentary things, not slogging in some warehouse, or otherwise. Good gawd, heaven help me, not a call centre job. Something that taps my creativity. It is all there, always has been, and the last years with this blog have been instrumental in tapping that vein.

Well, to be honest, frankly I could starve and be out on the street if I don’t make sure I have some sort of conventional stream of income – for now. No keen on being a toothless grinning tramp lady, living in a tent by the river, no not really so appealing.

I am under no illusions, this thing will mean, for one thing, getting out of this cozy comfort zone I’ve created. I know that. To finally get here is a victory I am well aware of, I honour and acknowledge my success for what it is, but I have to go further, much further into the abyss of this creative spark that lies within.

The practical side of this is a 15-year plan, in which I am now 4 or so years in, truth be told. I’ve never pretended to know the future itself, but I have roughed in the structure, the foundation of the thing. Which is not normally my way, as you well know. Five-year plans have never come naturally, that interview question always used to stump me. No more.

This first bit, this was the learning, gaining knowledge, honing, looking around, feeling it out, growing skills.

As my solitude became more comfortable, natural, kind of like the hermit from the Tarot, I have looked within, taking a step back, shining the light inside, poking around inside myself.

The person you knew has changed quite a bit. That girl who stubbornly went for what she wanted once she knew what it was, well, she’s still here, but she has become the navigator in all this. Now this, well, sticking with the Tarot, this Fool, has gained some experience and knowledge, and she is the one whose handling all the day-to-day details decisions/tasks, going with her gut.

Now, in the French version of the Tarot, the Fool is represented by the Jester or a Bard, which is more to the idea of the Fool. The fool is #0, the start, he has nothing but a pack slung over his shoulder, dog nipping at his heels, over the cliff he goes, confident in his gut that he will not die, but will thrive.

Puppy sprawled out sleeping on my lap

Kind of describes me in the last 4 years, with this look within, this new notion of the journey.

So where am I? What next? Somewhere I guess, maybe the Magician, the “1” in the Tarot? With all the tools at my disposal, all the aces laid out before me, just a matter of… time?

Sorry, this sort of makes me sound like I’m a wee bit wacko, but in a certain way is not off the mark. To a degree, some say that to follow your dreams you have to be a bit wacko jacko, and inevitably find one has a cast of characters around that believe you just might be crazy… comes with the territory… if not, then you’re doing it wrong.

You know, not all who wander are lost.

Once you’ve seen the face of a god, the god, or whatever, you are never the same. It singes something internally, you are changed.

Which is how it is, in a way. I am changed, burned, eyes open, WIDE open.

Yeah, and the little girl who said you were going to hell cause you didn’t go to church? That little girl that didn’t understand why her Sunday school teacher mom didn’t like the fire and brimstone preacher? Well mom, grandma would be proud, as she is just as spiritually minded, though a wee bit less righteous. More, em, divinely motivated? Not sure if that’s the right word, but certainly a bit of divine timing at play in some of this, apparently.

Or, someone just has it in for me.

I believe at some level there is a spirit in everything, to a degree, molecular, infinitesimal, yet still part of it all.

A web of matter going forth in all directions, all around us, inside and out, and as solid as we believe ourselves to be, we are but merely taped together, almost a mirage ourselves. Something brings us together, be the human, tree or a sheet of paper, or an axe, we are all linked.

Sorry, that has nothing to do with nothing, but, looking at myself within my world today, it is significant to me.

At a certain point I began to understand how we may bring about what we desire into being, make solid. Not in some magical way, or classically thought of as magic. No, rather more that I can mould the thing into being, over time, through work, and waking daydreams, with a renewed purpose, a plan, going towards that horizon I see.

Bicycle rides are good for this, while in this zen state of awareness I construct the elements of my path, the wind in my hair, free, and my mind finally quiets, and my gut becomes easier to hear.

Well, so yes, blawdy hell, I really did have plans for this year. What’s the saying, man plans and God laughs? Well, your God. Definitely grandma’s God.

Ruddy annoying if ya asked me. But, what do I know.

What I have learned though, along the way, at every job, every swerve off the path, I have come back with something of value, every single time. Something that I could not have learned otherwise. And, regardless of the length of said job, whether 6 years, or 6 months, in each I have gained value, experiences, friends, and new ways of thinking about myself, like with this last.

So, security and lifelong employment is like rare as hens teeth today, not just for me. Different careers, jobs, like stepping stones.

Even if I once thought my life would just be this one common thread, average, middle class, normal, ordinary, and truth be told it was never what I wanted. And, my life has never been either average, nor common. Well, if I thought of this at all, which I really didn’t, or not much.

I really and truly identify with the Tolkien quote… as my life pattern is now hard to ignore.

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Reminds me that many have gone this way before, I’m not the first, not alone. This desire to make one’s living by their inner most creativeness, to make money from our inspiration, seemed like a fantasy not so long ago.

Too scared, too unsure, lazy, unmotivated at times, sad, lost, and then life knocks me down, again, pushed off in some other direction, dragged off by a desire for something I thought I should want. But, without fail, I would find myself again lying in the ditch, counting what little I had, making choices based on what I had to do, never what I wanted to do.

Then my teeth, loosing them, my ugly smile, that all forced me to be alone, desire solitude, incubate, create… and something changed inside me.

This time, I thought I’d be at this job for longer, sure, thought this was the keeper for the decade, at least maybe. Yet, right to plan, twas not to be.

Which, I guess is why this time I am not worried, and I’m taking my sweet jolly time, and at the very least not falling for the first thing that pops up crap like I had in the past.

F that BS.

No, I believe this time, in this next phase, it will be about not just A thing, but many things. Harnessing many streams, which maybe has been the message all along?

Yeah, well mom, I don’t know right this very minute, not certain, but I no what I DO NOT want… and that is a great victory.

Well, that’s it for now.

Curled up puppy on my lap, licking my ankles. Took her for a nice long walk, beautiful sunny day, and she leaped and jumped, and sniffed EVERYTHING. Chilly, but not cold.

She’s never seen spring. Doesn’t know about flowers, bees, frogs, dragonflies, or butterflies. Yesterday she went off chasing a squirrel, could barely pull her away, CONVINCEd he was somewhere close by, not up the tree and half-way to Beirut, like seriously. Eventually, dragged her away, and then bounce bounce bounce down the sidewalk. She has only ever known half dead grass and snow.

Got her new winter gear, so, a tiny Japanese Warrior, or like she’s wearing a poofy 80s placemat?

Spring should be a blast with my ninja weasel by my side, or nipping at my heels.

Love,
Paula

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