Work to Live?

"What is so important about work? We work to live. We work so that we can enjoy our free time. You all live to work. It's work this, work that. All you ever do is work! Where is the life in that?"

I don't know if my subconscious planted this in my waking mind or if I heard/read it somewhere; I just know it has been plaguing me this week. The speaker is European, the listener is American. I remember the first time I found out that all of France goes on vacation for the entire month of August. Jealousy! And utter disbelief that the world doesn't fall apart when they all stop working. How indoctrinated am I? Why is work the pillar of stability and consistency in our culture? Because we have made it so. The world would not end if we stopped working, the sky would not fall in, and a chicken would not run around screaming about it. So why is it so difficult for us to leave our travail at the office (or restaurant as the case may be) and go home to LIVE? To breathe, to relax, to soak up the glory of a beautiful day, or indulge in the joy of good company. Do you do that? I don't. Work comes home with me every day. I worry about my servers. I obsess over our corporate assessments, customer satisfaction, and the endless to do list I am constantly updating in my mind. Why? Does it make me better at my job? No, actually it doesn't. It makes me stressed which probably makes me worse at my job. Which I sad because I really like my job. But that's all it is. It should not be the definitive part of my life and yet it is. I see my co-workers more than I see my daughter, boyfriend, and parents combined. That strikes me as wrong. I know I only work 10 or so more hours a week than a typically employed person does, but those are 10 hours that I wish I had with my family. In fact, all 50 of those hours I wish I had with them. 

I'm sure some of you think that being a stay-at-home mom is an obsolete concept. That with the way our society functions and inflicts costs on a family, there is no way I could ever stay home to just be a mom. I don't want that. I still want employment, I definitely need the mental stimulation--let me tell you, maternity leave is not all it's cracked up to be--I just want both. Call me greedy but I want both. And this post is so that I hold myself accountable to that dream so that it can be an achievable goal and not just an intangible tease of an idea. 

I have been blessed beyond measure with joy I never imagined. Being a mother, and in the near future a wife, are blessings I didn't ask for but needed more than I thought possible. So this blessing I am asking for. Because there are people that deserve my best and I want to give it to them.

An Empty Room

My family moved to Pinehurst, NC when I was in kindergarten. Providence and grace kept us there only 8 months but I have a very vivid memory of our house before the move. There was nothing special about this house. Ranch-style, two bedrooms on one side and the master bedroom on the other. Living room, dining room, kitchen and a yard full of ant hills. But when we first walked in, it was empty. No furniture, just walls and windows. As we entered the biggest room in the house, I remember thinking, "This is it; this is the best house ever," and running around in circles. I was absolutely delighted by this empty room. And then the realtor or my mom, I can't remember which, said, "You won't be able to do that when there's furniture in the room." And I'm sure it was just an off the cuff remark probably intended to get me to stand still, but I was crushed. Why couldn't it stay empty? I thought it was much better the way it was. And ever since then one of my heart's deepest desires is to have an empty room. 

An empty room with plenty of windows, afternoon light streaming in, filling the room in the way furniture and stuff can't. I'm sure some of you are thinking, "yeah, an empty room where she'd be wearing a straitjacket..." Maybe. But this empty room would always be full of possibilities. Our eyes are constantly accosted by stuff: advertisements, cars shinier than ours, clothes more expensive than ours, people prettier than us. Isn't that why many people seek out peaceful places? At the beach you can close your eyes and hear two things: the ocean and seagulls. What a relief for the senses after everything we hear on a normal day! In my mind, I can see my empty room and I relax. I would be so grateful for that space to breathe and think without being influenced by any outside sources. Maybe do a little yoga. A little meditation. A little prayer.  

If I ever buy a house (cross my fingers), there will be an empty room. 

The Fall

I took Eva to see Toy Story 3 yesterday. And like quite a few twentysomethings that saw the first one while we were still children, I found myself in tears by the end. Now we could chalk that up to my emotional personality, to the themes of growing up and moving on, to the sheer beauty of finality, or a myriad of other things but I choose to believe I was crying because I was revisiting Innocence. Not my innocence, but the Innocence that the world seems devoid of now. Yes, I connect with that movie on a lot of levels--it literally took me til the third movie to realize Andy's mother is a single mom--but there is a special archetype present here that no one can ignore.

Whether you believe in God or not, the story of the Fall reaches in to the deepest part our psyches. To live in a pure state of being, to experience Light, to never wonder what is wrong with you or the world around you and then to have that taken away is, I think, the most powerful plotline of all. I could even argue it is present in every person's life and nearly every story ever told--definitely every tragedy. If we can recognize this theme in reality and in fiction, should we not acknowledge it as the reason why we cherish children and childhood? Children--and I literally tear up as I think about Eva--are incredible. Children have no concept of death or destruction and yet their scope of reality is infinitely larger than adults'. Listen to their stories. Listen to their play and you will see a world larger than the one you think you inhabit. Eva can make a toy come alive just by imagining it to be true. Children are Light.

So as I was confronted with the idea of Buzz and Woody and Jessie reaching The End, I cried. I cried for the love of my daughter, for the wonder of imagination, and for the deeply heartwrenching thought of somehow not being whole because another symbol of Innocence is gone. Mingled in was the joy that Art allows us to revisit Innocence--or how we lost it--whenever we need it. How lucky am I that I have Eva to remind me that my need for it is constant, unchanging, and ever-present.

An Exercise in Perspective

Thanks to a healthy dose of narcissism (ahem) and the promise of readership from a few dear friends, I started a blog. Pre-writing jitters aside, I'm really excited to have this opportunity to get my head back in the game, so to speak. If you know me, you know I feel the loss of certain important brain cells deeply; childbirth and restaurant work have sapped my reserves. Nonetheless, I promise to attempt substance and depth on an infrequent basis and we shall see where it goes from there.

I conceived the idea for this blog one day during the Arizona immigration law controversy. I merely wanted to point out that everyone in America has an ancestor that was once an immigrant, just to provide a little perspective for the jingoist anti-immigration camp, and did my Facebook wall ever blow up. Did I want people to agree with me? Of course. Did I want to sway people to my side? Sure, what good liberal doesn't? But what I really wanted was the discussion. For both sides to have an equal share of the conversation. For there to be understanding and the beautiful exchange of information and ideas that makes having different opinions worthwhile. I did get the last word on that particular day so maybe it's easier for me to say that now, but seriously. I spent my entire college career examining different perspectives and hunting for the Truth in fiction; it's only fitting that I continue. This time I'll be hunting for the Truth in adulthood and I am certain that will be an equally challenging task.