Things have not been silent in my mind for the past month yet my fingers have refrained from reaching for the keyboard for various existential reasons. However, today I was struck by yet another facet to the strange goings on where I work-a small business in a silly little town in not-so-golden California. Home of the 10% sales tax.
Today, I watched while the psycho co-worker I share my Mondays and Tuesdays with chatted up one of the bosses as is often the case. I often watch them as we wind our way through the day, clustering as a duo for 20 minutes at a time and it sure looks like some kind of fan club. Let's get matching hats shall we?
To an outsider, or maybe I should just say, to someone who is not part of the work "A" list, it looks to be that my co-worker is groomed for additional authority, special projects and of course, special consideration. From where I stand with my non-existent stature, it appears that no one else at work is privy to that tryst nor will I ever see what they see in one another save preference and devotion. Duh!
I always hoped that I would be able to "retire" after giving a Supervisor position a run past my own inner dialog about preference and fairness. I wanted to test myself to look deeper than all the people for whom I have worked that have seemed to fail the litmus test of fairness and equality in management. I have begun to feel that I shall not find a way in life to be the kind of Supervisor who instills greatness in those less fortunate. I wanted to be a part of others being recognized accurately and also to encourage with some authority behind that hope.
Alas, I am part of the grunt class and yet, I have eyes and I see so many things. For me, that kind of favoritism is the other "F" word.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Golden Rule And J.A.G.
I have been thinking of Jonathan-J.A.G. to his fellow employees at LandPaths, for over a week now as I worked through a difficult week at work, physically and emotionally. I am spent today. Tomorrow, the memorial for Jonathan will be held and I have decided to go for a hike to honor him, think of him and celebrate him. That pain of losing him is still real and sharp for me. Perhaps it is just as much about feeling so much loss this past year-jobs, money, Ginger, friends and family, as about Jonathan in particular.
And so I will hope that all of the folks who journey to honor Jonathan Glass tomorrow, including a large contingent of cyclists, will find peace and company in their grief.
This week, for me, embodied the idea of The Golden Rule-or simply doing for others as we would want to experience. I would say that my work life has ended up in the dung heap due to some very dysfunctional leadership and a history of inappropriate favoritism where I work.
One would not think it should be this hard but sometimes life lessons carry a punch. More like an anvil in a glove! I was able to pass on some love, tucked into small actions, for my coworkers who seem to get as little praise as I do. Maybe I made a difference for someone.
In the meantime, I am gonna read on the couch with the Greyhounds slumbering nearby. Peace be with all of us tonight.
And so I will hope that all of the folks who journey to honor Jonathan Glass tomorrow, including a large contingent of cyclists, will find peace and company in their grief.
This week, for me, embodied the idea of The Golden Rule-or simply doing for others as we would want to experience. I would say that my work life has ended up in the dung heap due to some very dysfunctional leadership and a history of inappropriate favoritism where I work.
One would not think it should be this hard but sometimes life lessons carry a punch. More like an anvil in a glove! I was able to pass on some love, tucked into small actions, for my coworkers who seem to get as little praise as I do. Maybe I made a difference for someone.
In the meantime, I am gonna read on the couch with the Greyhounds slumbering nearby. Peace be with all of us tonight.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Remembering Jonathan Glass
Perhaps, just perhaps, I am one of the lucky ones. Maybe. Sometimes. Living with many memories, hopes, disappointments and dark feelings for a lifetime helps one get to know oneself very well. That voice of despair is always there, a little bit to the left of my left ear. A demon, a thought born of stress and a very dark upbringing. Exercise helps and being outdoors can send that demon packing.
Having said all of that, I am remembering a man named Jonathan Glass who died in February. A brilliant, capable, funny, outdoorsy man who ran LandPaths for many years gave me the chance to show up on Thursdays, clean up the database a bit and be a part of something positive. Jonathan gave me the chance to allay my own darkness in a time of unemployment. He gave me a purpose and a place to sit. He helped me to belong and feel purposeful. He helped me stay alive.
And so it was with great sadness to know that his own hidden despair ended his all-too-brief life here in northern California. To say he is missed is not to fully comprehend how Jonathan made open space happen here in Sonoma County. He was cherished and his absence here is profoundly sorrowful. There is a great emptiness where that beaming smile lit up the room.
May he now be free and may the rest of us find a way to ask for help, show understanding where we only think of ourselves, take chances, make a statement and know that living does mean that we are one of the lucky ones.
Having said all of that, I am remembering a man named Jonathan Glass who died in February. A brilliant, capable, funny, outdoorsy man who ran LandPaths for many years gave me the chance to show up on Thursdays, clean up the database a bit and be a part of something positive. Jonathan gave me the chance to allay my own darkness in a time of unemployment. He gave me a purpose and a place to sit. He helped me to belong and feel purposeful. He helped me stay alive.
And so it was with great sadness to know that his own hidden despair ended his all-too-brief life here in northern California. To say he is missed is not to fully comprehend how Jonathan made open space happen here in Sonoma County. He was cherished and his absence here is profoundly sorrowful. There is a great emptiness where that beaming smile lit up the room.
May he now be free and may the rest of us find a way to ask for help, show understanding where we only think of ourselves, take chances, make a statement and know that living does mean that we are one of the lucky ones.
Monday, March 11, 2013
The Lemur In The Backseat
I look up
from the overpriced plant that I am
watering,
in a nursery where I work
for pittance wondering
what happened to my beautiful life,
to see a silver sedan pulling into the parking lot,
slowly moving forward seeking the perfect
parking spot,
and there is a lemur, wide eyed and taking in all that washes
before her through a car window,
short in the seat,
she is tiny and very real.
I look up
realizing that my lemur is an old woman,
shrunken by age,
viewing the world through eyes
like pie plates,
on her outing to the nursery where she will move slowly
on the arm of her adult child,
with those huge, hopeful eyes upon all
that she will be missing.
I look up
and wonder what happened to all that I had
planned and know
one day soon,
I will become the lemur in the back seat.
.jpg)
from the overpriced plant that I am
watering,
in a nursery where I work
for pittance wondering
what happened to my beautiful life,
to see a silver sedan pulling into the parking lot,
slowly moving forward seeking the perfect
parking spot,
and there is a lemur, wide eyed and taking in all that washes
before her through a car window,
short in the seat,
she is tiny and very real.
I look up
realizing that my lemur is an old woman,
shrunken by age,
viewing the world through eyes
like pie plates,
on her outing to the nursery where she will move slowly
on the arm of her adult child,
with those huge, hopeful eyes upon all
that she will be missing.
I look up
and wonder what happened to all that I had
planned and know
one day soon,
I will become the lemur in the back seat.
.jpg)
Sunday, March 3, 2013
That'll Be Me
That'll be me in about 20 years
with my translucent skin over sharp
cheek bones,
asking a retail clerk to get something for me that I cannot
reach,
my teeth hanging on by a thread of tissue,
my eyes will become distant as if I see the end of my life but
I am not there yet,
just this frail, petite wisp of a body that
doesn't walk well or quickly anymore.
That'll be me with my thinning hair and excellent manners which
tell the story of a much different generation where
texting was something strange about to take over a nation and
great Pie was the way we told others
about our joy for living.
That'll be me with my ache to be seen,
long gone now as others look past my diminishing body,
they fail to see themselves or even realize that
one day
they will be saying to themselves
That'll be me
too.
with my translucent skin over sharp
cheek bones,
asking a retail clerk to get something for me that I cannot
reach,
my teeth hanging on by a thread of tissue,
my eyes will become distant as if I see the end of my life but
I am not there yet,
just this frail, petite wisp of a body that
doesn't walk well or quickly anymore.
That'll be me with my thinning hair and excellent manners which
tell the story of a much different generation where
texting was something strange about to take over a nation and
great Pie was the way we told others
about our joy for living.
That'll be me with my ache to be seen,
long gone now as others look past my diminishing body,
they fail to see themselves or even realize that
one day
they will be saying to themselves
That'll be me
too.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
A Sense Of Wonder In A Pile Of Dung
I can say that life has been challenging, knowing that, in itself, is a euphemism for a bunch of crap. Making a living in California, where our sales tax is about 10% is very "challenging" to say the least. Finding a job that is tolerable and perhaps, enjoyable, that pays more than $10 an hour, without benefits of course, is almost unheard of, to say the least. Getting a job at all is like magic. I wonder if things will ever be different here or anywhere post 2008.
So, enough said about the hardships though after a Roto Rooter bill to the tune of $337.50-what is the .50 for?-and a broken VCR, well making $10 an hour doesn't leave much else. Groceries, utilities, dog food and gasoline round out the full spectrum.
I found my sense of wonder in the rising moon tonight, albeit viewed through the power lines, to be my own talisman. I do try to find those things that make me wonder why I am here. Sometimes it is the grandest sunset from our driveway or the stars at night over our old, freezing house or the about-to-be full moon.
All of these images were fueled by a book that my mother had called "The Sense Of Wonder" by Rachel Carson. I often looked through that book that my mother strategically placed on the coffee table. For me, a child already too old for her years, it awakened who I was already in that painful childhood home. I was fascinated by the photography of the magic of nature. I still feel that profoundly though I wonder, every day, why am I here and why is life so damn tough?
Finding that "sense of wonder" in a pile of crap is harder but never far from my grasp. I feel fortunate to still have that desire and amazement of all that nature offers to us here on earth, struggling and not, rich and not, wise and not. Thank you mother earth!
So, enough said about the hardships though after a Roto Rooter bill to the tune of $337.50-what is the .50 for?-and a broken VCR, well making $10 an hour doesn't leave much else. Groceries, utilities, dog food and gasoline round out the full spectrum.
I found my sense of wonder in the rising moon tonight, albeit viewed through the power lines, to be my own talisman. I do try to find those things that make me wonder why I am here. Sometimes it is the grandest sunset from our driveway or the stars at night over our old, freezing house or the about-to-be full moon.
All of these images were fueled by a book that my mother had called "The Sense Of Wonder" by Rachel Carson. I often looked through that book that my mother strategically placed on the coffee table. For me, a child already too old for her years, it awakened who I was already in that painful childhood home. I was fascinated by the photography of the magic of nature. I still feel that profoundly though I wonder, every day, why am I here and why is life so damn tough?
Finding that "sense of wonder" in a pile of crap is harder but never far from my grasp. I feel fortunate to still have that desire and amazement of all that nature offers to us here on earth, struggling and not, rich and not, wise and not. Thank you mother earth!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Sunrise
A hawk sits
at the edge of sunrise,
a desolate perch against the growing blue,
swollen feathers braced against the frigid morning as
I run by on
this February morning,
disappointed with my life yet
still moving forward, running on old, skinny legs,
hoping,
clueless,
fragile.
A hawk sits
at the edge of sunrise,
her silhouette black against the growing light,
at the edge of the lake where I
run by on
this February morning.
at the edge of sunrise,
a desolate perch against the growing blue,
swollen feathers braced against the frigid morning as
I run by on
this February morning,
disappointed with my life yet
still moving forward, running on old, skinny legs,
hoping,
clueless,
fragile.
A hawk sits
at the edge of sunrise,
her silhouette black against the growing light,
at the edge of the lake where I
run by on
this February morning.
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