I’ve been quiet for months, cause I haven’t had much to say worth sharing. Like everyone else, I’ve been busy trying to forge my path through this wacky world, and feeling like I wasn’t sure what my next move would be. Everything inspiring has seemed impossible, and everything possible has seemed uninspiring.
Sometimes, I think it’s when we’re right on the verge of getting everything we ever dreamed of that it seems the most unlikely that it’s ever really going to happen. I think that’s been the case for me. I’ve been wandering somewhat aimlessly through my career lately, wondering how to fuse it with passion.
To others, the answer may have seemed obvious – practice music law. I’ve been hearing it for a good while. From people I trust and respect. They’ve believed in me. But if I’m being really honest with myself, I haven’t believed in myself. I’ve been afraid of not knowing what to do. Afraid that little ole me doesn’t have the resources to do it, even if I figured it out. Afraid of never getting out of debt, and never being where I want to be financially. Maybe too, afraid of what it would truly mean to succeed.
After 2 1/2 years of self-employment, I recently started shopping my resume. Last week I got an interview at a firm who wanted to pay me respectable money, if I’d start right away – and I took it in a heart beat. Why? To pay my bills. The problem? I realized at lightening speed that it was a poor fit, and that I wouldn’t be happy.
So after my second day with the firm, it was time for a weekend of major celebration: My brother Matt’s Bar Mitzvah. Although I wanted nothing more than to be in the party spirit, my own haste in decision making and perceived life in the balance were weighing heavily on my mind. And amidst discussions, and while surrounded by all of my family and friends (several of whom are the lawyers on the planet I trust most), the truth came out. I’d sold out.
So my call to action is simple. I’m resolved to buy back in. To believing in myself. To going for it – whatever it is that I want. No matter what. I’ve worked long and hard to get to where I’ve gotten (wherever that may be) and I’ll forge ahead – despite the scariness of the unknown. It’s time to make a change, and dammit I’m going to figure out a way to make it happen.
At the service for Matt’s Bar Mitzvah Saturday morning, I opened up the prayer book, and found the following poem on one of the opening pages. Maybe being willing to let down your guard, and admit your struggle, is to gain the support of the universe. Namaste to all.
Tell Them I’m Struggling, by David Meltzer
Tell them I’m struggling to sing with angels who hint at it in
black words printed on old paper gold edged by time.
Tell them I wrestle the mirror every morning.
Tell them I sit here invisible in space; nose running, coffee cold,
Tell them I tell them everything & everything is never enough.
Tell them I’m davening & voices rise up from within to startle children.
Tell them I walk off into the woods to sing.
Tell them I sing loudest next to waterfalls.
Tell them the books get fewer, words go deeper, some
take months to get through.
Tell them there are months when it’s all perfect; above
‘n’ below, it’s perfect, even in moments in between where
sparks in space (terrible, beautiful sparks in space)
are merely metaphors for the void between
one pore and another.
Sweetness, I will make you dinner as soon as you come back. We will celebrate your bravery to try again. I am so proud of you. As recovering attorneys, we shall make our own ribbons and make our own parades and our own bumperstickers…when relapses occur and we are pulled back in, we will be brave and forgive ourselves our own trespasses. Your gifts are bountiful. You will blossom and find a sources of strength unfanthonable. Of this I am certain, as sure as you are a fierce yogini.