Wednesday, September 14, 2011

ice capades

Most of the time work is so busy there is little opportunity to get to know my co workers, though they seem kind and helpful. Sometimes we catch quick glimpses of who the other is outside of black polos and coffee cadences. Mary Beth is moving to Nashville, excited about the raised veggie garden out back of her house. Cat used to bike 14 miles to and from work in Louisville. Ashanti is hilarious. Tracey is a River kid. And more than I would've guessed have religious interests.
I'm not really sure what anyone thinks of me or how much they know. I love new scenes, so much opportunity. Yesterday while I was getting ice Nathan asked me what I want to be when I grew up.
THE question.
The one nearly everyone asks me in some form or another the past decade. It is a RARE day that goes by when no one brings up this quandary. My bank account hauntingly echoes this open ended query. And most people ask it with various subtext, but they all want to know. And in various questioners and various situations I have different responses. I should probably confess my responses are rarely welcoming to the question.
The thing is, I guess I don't really understand the people that ask it. We have to make some money to buy some stuff and exist. So that's why people work - and they enjoy having a purpose. But the amount of money and work people need to feel consequently successful or purposeful is very dynamic, perhaps as dynamic as any reasons any creature would have to self propel thousands of miles. And I can't really answer that question either.
I mean- I grew up having what I needed and some things I wanted. Then spent all of my adult life being creative about how to live frugally while keeping my core values alive and well. Money.... has not been a big part of things... or perhaps the lack of money has. Do I feel successful and purposeful? In a different sort of way, sure.
The way I look at it there are a few big life questions traditionalists would REALLY like us to answer, and yes, sometimes I wonder these myself.

Where will you live?
Who will you love?
What work will you do?

Depending on where you're at in your life you will read these musings differently. I've prayed over these questions more times than I can count in the past decade. And sometimes they keep me up at night.

Life has a lot of big questions though... and I imagine answering those leads to the next chapter of questions... maybe someday I'll know more about that.

But standing in the dish room in Danskos that I HATE and a polo shirt that cramps my style, needing to dump the ice back out front I didn't really think about all of this.

I didn't get defensive or panicked thinking about the thousands of dollars invested in my college education. Or the ratio of jobs I've had that I've loved vs hated. Or the prospect of more school. Or what has/ is driving those decisions.

Before I could think my tongue spit out


And the rest of my mouth must've agreed from some place more wise than that part of myself that overanalyzes and processes EVERYTHING, because I was smiling.

My thoughts needed a second to catch up with my mouth, and still smiling I reconfirmed... "yeah. I just want to be happy"

"Looks like you're already there" he responded.