Life is not smooth sailing. In fact, if it’s to be the least bit interesting or meaningful, there’s going to be wind, rain and perhaps a perfect storm. If we survive the storms we’re usually left wondering; “what next?” Even if we’re not naturally inclined to ask such a question it is imposed upon us. Clergy, counselors, family and friends will sprinkle their cooing and nodding with talk of whole new worlds (which to me simply conjured Aladdin and/or karaoke.) There are oodles of talk and text that focus on “finding our place in the world.” Can you imagine anything more daunting? Finding my place in the world? That’s a lot of terrain to navigate. My guess is that like most platitudes, it’s best to extract the gist. I come to this assumption after a lifetime of being literal to a fault. In the past when my ship has been brutally thrown off course I have looked to straighten it from the outside. This is nautically impossible of course unless you’re Poseidon. My response to catastrophe has always been “Alright then, now what?” I think of it as a “pick yourself up, dust yourself off, start all over again” approach. And it works. It does. If you put one foot in front of the other you soon will be walking out the door. But is that really the point? Is there nothing more to gain from life than learning how to get from point A to point B?
At the risk of tooting my own foghorn, I’ve survived more than one perfect storm. Being “strong” (I swear to G-d if one more person calls me that I’m going to show them exactly how right they are with a swift kick,) is nothing more than survival instict. During my darkest days I got out of bed and showered, every. single. day. There wasn’t a fiber of my being that didn’t want to stay wrapped in the sheets that still smelled of my husband but I never felt that was an option for me. I distinctly remember my indignation upon viewing Lady Mary still in bed at Downton Abbey SIX MONTHS after her husband was killed in an accident. I believe I actually snorted; “aristocracy, what a bunch of p*&%ies!” Man up Lady Mary, man up! She did eventually get out of bed and like this viewer, heeded all the advice to find her place in the world. She did so by embracing her newfound wealth and power and insinuated herself into the running of the family business. I looked for a job. I had no interest in working but felt that was one way to be part of the world. I felt that the whole world was watching (okay maybe just the Facebook world) how I was going to emerge from the ashes. Finding a way to visibly demonstrate that life was more than simply a series of sh*tstorms felt like my charge. I needed to prove in the most visible of ways that it isn’t all just viciously senseless. So I took the job that got the greatest audience response and was freaking miserable. I hadn’t cried at work since 1987 when I got the call my niece was born. But there I was, a grown woman crying in the bathroom. My boss had raging outbursts about a dozen times a day. He would recover with seemingly no recollection of having cursed, shook, turned red, pounded the desk and thrown things. The man was a dry drunk. He also wasn’t terribly good at his job. So I left after 6 weeks, feeling battered, disillusioned and like a failure. It took another 6 weeks to get over that. I then embarked on a romance and the audience sighed. It was only after it ended cataclysmically that it occurred to me perhaps I was being a smidge too literal about finding my place in the world.
I’ve always been averse to anything that even hints of mysticism or spiritualism. I am a pragmatist and was force-fed far too many chakras and auras as a child. Anything involving remedies (unless it’s from those sisters on The Waltons,) smudge sticks, crystals (The Women and Dynasty characters excepted,) or astrological charts are out. Keep your “energies” to yourself please. The only people I’d ever known that indulged in such things eschewed the world I embraced. I had never known any city dwelling, champagne swilling, theatre going, four-inch heel wearing yurt dwellers. I did once meet a city dweller who embraced her connection to the earth by menstruating directly into the forest. Of course this meant she was outta the city and into the woods every 28 days for 3-5 days. So forgive me for having a permanently raised eyebrow. During the past few months however, it began to dawn on me that my life is too external for my comfort. I craved, dare I say, (gulp) a spiritual component. Through cautious trial and error I’ve discovered that there is a way to embrace spiritual elements while wearing heels and jewelry. I dipped my polished toe into the water with the purchase of a small set of wind chimes (I’m all about set design.) I’ve since bellied up to the buffet and filled my plate with little bits of this and that. I have discovered a dance class that makes my spirit soar while making me feel wonderfully grounded. I have learned that massage isn’t only for the fancy or bored, but when done by a mindful therapist can be transcendent. I have found teachers and practitioners wiser and more insightful than I ever knew possible. I am beginning to see that my place in the world has nothing to do with external hallmarks and everything to do with how I feel and understand. It is an incredibly liberating realization and for me it truly is a whole new world. I am choosing not to dwell on the fact that it’s taken me so many decades to come to this place. I suppose this time my ship set ground on a shore I was ready to explore.
Here She Is Boys 
Take Back The Workday
In one week I was asked three times if I was available for a meeting after 5:30 PM. These meetings were not involving that business we call show, or in the hospitality or health care arena. There is nothing 24-hour or evening hours about this particular business. If anything this organization follows a somewhat academic rhythm with employees starting between 7:30 and 8:30 in the morning. There was no crisis, no deadline, no urgency. These were run-of-the-mill everyday “we meet because we meet” meetings.
If it was one request, it might go without notice; but three times in one week is worthy of note. You would have to be living under a rock to not know that everyone is “stressed” and “has no time.” Articles and on-air segments tell us that people are having it all and doing everything and scheduling physical relations. We are led to believe that business is busy and people are doing far too much. But is it true? Is it really true?
How many times in the past week have you seen any of the following?
Now think back to how many meaningless emails you’ve received and meetings you’ve attended in the past week. Could it be when the workplace was more formal (and not just in the “no flip-flops” way) time was more formal and structured as well? When communication has to go from your head, out your mouth into a secretary’s ear, through his/her fingers, into a mimeograph machine, prepared for the mailroom, delivered, opened and read; you might think twice about how and when you express yourself.
In addition to the immediacy of an outlet for our brain dump is the fact that boundaries aren’t what they once were. (Need we discuss how many times you’ve been subjected to a full blown account of someone’s medical test or birth control choices while riding a bus or elevator?) People ask you to meet at 5:30 on a Friday because there’s a chance you might say yes. They will email you on Sunday night because there’s a chance you might respond. Certainly there are professions and industries that demand being “on” all the time. But the rest of us needn’t be so available or feel so anxious. Let’s be frank, we answer (or g-d forbid send) that Sunday night email because a) we can b) we want it off of our minds and c) because we want to appear to be working.
The appearance of working is not technically the same as working. Getting coffee, having lunch, touching base, celebrating milestones with mini-cupcakes? Not really working. Meetings at which people show up late, no one is in charge, and everyone is texting? Not really working. A little austerity could go a long way in giving us back some hours. Starting today when an off-hour request occurs ask yourself:
If the most dramatic response you can muster (to these questions) is a “well”, say no. There are those who work for unreasonable people and feel they simply have no choice (if they want to eat.) That’s a dreadful and hopefully temporary situation. But for everyone else it’s just a matter of changing the cultural climate. Yes, the most direct way to do that is top down, but that would take a rather evolved leader, no? We can all slowly and incrementally change the way we respond to requests of our time. It demands we stay present and not reactionary. It means keeping our eye on the prize (or our work/project goals.) There’s no doubt if we can stay focused during our work day we’ll actually accomplish more, and after-hours can resume its rightful title; “happy hour.”
Posted by Anonymous on October 11, 2012 in Cultural Critique, Well-Being
Tags: Boundaries, Brenda Tobias, comments, emails, Facebook, meetings, memos, stress, surfing, texting, time management, Workplace