Zen

Today's lesson.

The  city was still sleeping as the overnight hotel clerk took back the key, said thank you for the stay,  before we ventured out.   It was sunny and cold and still. The perfect winter day of cloudless sky, with the kind of crisp that keeps your hands in your pockets, but your face turned up,  basking for a moment before the wind of the next storm blows in.

It had to be that early, or the quiet of the tea garden could be missed.



I have been to the tea garden dozens of times. School trips as early as ten years old. Later, sneaking away across the park, leaving my high school classmates lounging on the steps of the academy of science, bored, waiting for the bus. Play dates here and there with tourist-designed friends. Even more recently leaving my ex's bed, him still asleep on holiday Mondays or random Fridays. While I eventually would try to share it with him, the magic needs both willingness and surrender. (I usually returned with Starbucks, snuggled back in before he knew I was gone.) Alone in this adventure more often than not.

It was a purposeful trek, because the gift of the garden, if I listened carefully, was always there, and I knew it. Always patient, as if it was waiting to reveal just one more piece of its secret for me in exchange for my early morning sacrifice. I never knew what it would be, but it always happened.  Today was no different.

My daughter and son were with me, also with their faces to the sky and hands in their pockets. Our conversations were quiet, and respectful, (even when the squirrel stole the cookie), deep, about things related to wishes and desires if all things were perfect. We talked about homes, and gardens, and the work that went into them. We talked about the types of gardens we were attracted to, and why.  We agreed that the tea garden was special in its deliberateness,  and how attempting to create one would have to be selfless, because only long after countless hours were spent would its real beauty be seen. The garden would have to be a person's purpose, the intimate reward being the effort of the job. The results could maybe be discovered by others, but maybe not. You could not force it. The garden demanded patience.  The garden demanded work.

True to the way things happen when I put in the effort, the garden revealed itself to me through their words.

Here's what I learned: If there are things I want to create, it would have to be the work I do to reveal myself. I would have to be like the garden. Patient with myself to see results, to share results. I would have to get up and listen in the quiet moments for what was being taught. I would would need to be willing and eager, but surrender to the process. 

And even more like the garden I would have to be deliberate, and public, but without me knowing if anyone would ever feel the magic or not.

So I present today's blog. Not because I need it to speak to anyone,  but because I need to practice both willing deliberate actions and constant surrendered patience if I ever hope to share results.

I hope tomorrow is just as quiet, just as crisp, with my face wanting to turn to feel the sun. I am not gonna wish for squirrels, but I might make some tea. I hope remember today. I hope the garden's lessons are portable. I hope I listen.

The day to day of a working girl

Tomorrow marks the end of the first three weeks at my new job.  I am bored.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually like the new job.  I just already know it.  Like pretty much everything about it.  I have done this kind of work for years, and but for a couple little tricks and local policies, this is the same job.

The cons: 

The new office location is in the basement of a really wonderful building.  Truly, the architecture is wonderful, the grounds are wonderful, the artwork is wonderful. I just don’t have a window to see any of it. And worse, the basement means zero cell reception.  So while I can connect to the network and have internet on my personal device, I cannot receive any phone calls or texts. None.  Which meant that I changed all the emergency numbers for my kids’ schools to my actual office number and I now receive all of my school notices for things like PTA meetings and basketball games to my work voicemail.  The upside is that I have visual voicemail so it gets sent to my email to listen to or read.  The downside is I have visual voicemail so it gets sent to my email to listen to or read. It is funny that the same technology cannot enter TWO numbers at the school in case my child is bleeding to death, but it CAN call me 17 a day to remind me that my child needs a good night’s sleep. Basement location is a con.

The new office is super friendly.  Which means you say hi to everyone.  Every six seconds or so. We have a bell the clients can ring if, for some strange reason, we did not see you standing there, saying hi every six seconds. And more than a few people we have already said hi to think that ringing the bell is just sweet, like a noise that we would not find annoying because, well, they said hi while ringing it.  Super friendly like, and often while giggling about ringing it to begin with.  Three weeks in, and you would not believe how many people ring the bell when we are actually talking to them.

The work never changes.  There are no problems to solve (but for the little bit of learning curve already mentioned). It is the same thing, different person.  Truly it is the same questions, the same logic, the same concerns.  We babysit everyone, and (see above) they are super friendly about it, but really, three weeks in, and unless there is some specialized type of something that comes up, this will be it. Every day. Forever.

There is not enough work.  I know that this should not even matter, because I make the same money, don’t have to fight for parking, have a computer, nice coworkers, music to listen to, a fan on my desk, and a cool stapler. And a friend pointed out to me that maybe I just forgot what a normal workload looks like, because it had been so long since I had had a normal workload, that this just might be what people who have regular jobs do. Like they go home at the end of the day with a semi clean desk and having accomplished some things, and then the work just continues without being fucking stupid busy all the fucking time (clearly I still have some resentment about my last job). But I feel like I could use a little more work to fill my day.  Even if it was just more of the same, just a bit MORE would be good.

I see military officers all day.  Like fit, hardworking military officers.  Sexy, hot, funny, intelligent military officers.  This should not be in the con section, right? Um, yeah, they are all really young, relatively arrogant, and taken.  Yep, married/ engaged/ GF/ BF/ committed.  So eye candy, but not a single actual prospect for dates and stuff. 

The pros:

It is not my old job.

I have plenty of time to update my resume and apply for other jobs and it does not even effect my work.  Like not at all. Work is done, still got time. No one even questions it, like I am adult who can manage my time and all, all by myself. *snicker*

See this blog?  Yeah, I got to write it at work. Best. Pro. Ever.