Prelude
Good Morning Feelers,
I’ll cut to the chase— I didn’t get the job. I made it through the whole interview process and took the last step—an assessment—and received word Tuesday morning that I had not been selected. It’s a tale as old as time but rejection always tends to cut deep. For me and other tender-hearted folk, anyway!
I did not intend to put all of my hope eggs into this one job basket. Loved ones cheered that the job was already mine, how couldn’t it be? I would nod vigorously and say, I hope! I knew that it wasn’t certain until there was an offer letter, but as the days passed and I moved through the interview process quickly, I started dreaming just a little about what could be— it’s only human. I dreamed about how I could use the extra money. How it might feel to have a real, stable job with benefits. How fulfilling using my brain—instead of my back—might be. How opportunities could explode. Most of all, I could not wait to tell my family and close friends that I had finally done it: I had finally gotten a “real” job. I was excited to feel proud of myself.
It didn’t happen this time. It’s not special, it’s not really anything at all. It’s just the stuff of life. Me and millions of other job-seekers, career-pivoters, and mistake-makers are together in this uncomfortable boat, throwing resumes and cover letters around like confetti, often to no reply—not even an automated one. When you're told you should be tailoring your cover letter and resume to every job you apply for, job-searching becomes a job itself, just as demanding and unrewarding as the day job you’re trying to escape. Job-searching is degrading, simple as. It makes you feel desperate and each rejection works itself a little deeper into the skin. It’s not long before you’re looking at yourself in the mirror, questioning, what is wrong with me? I’m not good enough.
Admittedly, this is not a good mindset. It’s an intimate, vulnerable place to be. Despite our best efforts, it’s very difficult to untether one’s sense of self worth from the job that pays their bills, precisely because it pays the bills and allows one to keep walking down their respective life path. It’s a real bummer—given all of the cool rocks to look at, birds to watch, oceans to taste, and mountains to admire— that it’s jobs which allow us to live our lives. Take away the job, and, in many circumstances, temporarily suspend the life.
I’ve definitely cried. I was *ready* to be liberated from my current position. I’ve had to walk back all of those good ‘ol expectations and realign with reality, like we all must when things don’t work out. Disappointment can be a very big feeling. It’s accompanied me the past two days, eating eggs in the morning, buckled into the passenger seat as I drive to work. I’ve been doing my best to sit with it, though I’d rather check out and feel nothing (let‘s be honest though—when have I ever felt nothing?). I’m keeping my head up but it’s heavy. It wants to lay on the ground and look at the stars and maybe float up into the firmament and become a star itself. I’m keeping momentum but there’s but a soft breeze to fill my sails. I tried to get lost in a book—in the good way— but found myself rereading the first pages of Pale Fire over and over again, fighting to make it stick.
I returned to the shelf and pulled down a book my high school mentor gave me long ago, following an academic rejection. The book is Pema Chödrön’s When Things Fall Apart, and Feelers—you definitely need to read it. I thought I might share a few passages, as it comforted me last night. I know a majority of us are feeling unfulfilled, stuck, and scared, particularly when it comes to work, and that it can feel devastating and unending. I am in those very trenches with you. And, surprise surprise, I come wielding a bouquet of words as both salve and sword. Where did I go when I needed to feel something last night? To a book. To the words. To the Place. A book, a passage, a poem— they’re all candles. All prayers. All swords. Often their respite provides the most relief. Here are a few beautiful excerpts from Chödrön’s masterpiece (oh, and she has authored many!).
“A teacher visited during this time, and I remember her saying to me, “When you have made good friends with yourself, your situation will be more friendly, too.” I had learned this lesson before, and I knew that it was the only way to go. I used to have a sign pinned up on my wall that read: “Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.” Somehow, even before I heard the Buddhist teachings, I knew that this was the spirit of true awakening. It was about letting go of everything.”
“When things are shaky and nothing is working, we might realize that we are on the verge of something. We might realize that this is a very vulnerable and tender place, and that tenderness can go either way. We can shut down and feel resentful or we can touch on that throbbing quality. There is definitely something tender and throbbing about groundlessness.”
“When things fall apart and we’re on the verge of we know not what, the test for each of us is to stay on that brink and not concretize. The spiritual journey is not about heaven and finally getting to a place that’s really swell. In fact, that way of looking at things is what keeps us miserable. Thinking that we can find some lasting pleasure and avoid pain is what in Buddhism is called samsara, a hopeless cycle that goes round and round endlessly and causes us to suffer greatly…. We use these situations either to wake ourselves up or to put ourselves to sleep.”
“Basically, disappointment, embarrassment, and all these places where we just cannot feel good area a sort of death. We’ve just lost our ground completely; we are unable to hold it together and feel that we’re on top of things. Rather than realizing it takes death for there to be birth, we just fight against the fear of death.”
And those are just from the first two chapters! Pema always gives me a stern yet tender talking-to. She gets down to the very root of the root (a tiny nod to mr. e.e. cummings), the bud of the bud, and spreads it out on the table for gentle study. Don’t concretize. That image is so clear in my mind, because I’m the concretizing sort. It’s the kind of talking-to I need when I’m in this place of existential fear and disappointment. The kind of talking-to we all need. The reminder to allow, as Pema says, this very moment to be the perfect teacher. Over and over again. To get close to the uncomfortable feelings while remaining open and curious. To know that they will never cease, and that’s okay. That is a reason to stay tender. And we know a thing or two about Tenderness, don’t we? I’m staying the course, moving towards more potential rejections and disappointments in pursuit of a better career (and a braver heart). That’s the tender and scary stuff of life. Continuing to approach the scary and disappointing stuff with openness eventually renders it harmless, so press on we must. We can be brave, Feelers; we’re here together.
Today’s poem is an observational little dity from the other morning. I like to wake up, make tea, and head out into the sun for a little morning sojourn. I call it greeting the sun. On this particular day, it was overcast and a little chilly; I almost headed back inside. I decided to stay for another ten minutes and watched the sun make its proud entrance. Enjoy. XO HW.
The Poem
The Sun is a Hunter
Clouds blotted back the sun. The morning darkened and the air purged its warmth. Overhead an airplane droned in and out of existence. Before long, a fold in the baggy cloud cover yellowed, glowing, the sun advancing and finally— a single ray of sunlight perforated the grey. Working quickly the sun jammed shards of light through the billowing overcast hide and dragged its hot knife slowly upwards, splitting the belly of the sky. Sunlight hemorrhaged from the wound tumbling bright and white across the horizon covering my face, closing my eyes. The slain cloud, in tatters, thinned and retreated. From the east, the next sheaf of clouds approached like a barge. Be careful, I warned. The sun is hunter.
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