Much like Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, I find myself waiting at Tha Crossroads.
(Warning: as a gangster wannabe, this song title has been used slightly out of the context just for the sake of introducing it into my blogging world. My apologies to real gangsters who were hoping to read about gangster related issues. However, the issues of the meaning of life, loss, and sacrifice transcend labels/groups so I hope you will keep reading.)
I am pulled by my heart to be a creator, to live by my own hand, to be spontaneous and free, to write and read and enjoy the world while the sun is shining. At the same time, the lure of money and stability pulls me in the opposite direction. Food, water, and shelter are so darned alluring to a simple human like me.
I figure that I could still have these things if I followed the voices in my head, but the water might be from a river, the food might be foraged, and the shelter might not have four walls.
Whenever I pass a bridge, I consider the possibility of living underneath of it. It’s a habit that I started a long time ago when whispers of another kind of life tickled the part of my brain usually left unused. Some bridge dwellings are passable, while others are too slanted, dirty, or already populated by a fellow “freedom seeker”.
Of course, this scenario might seem rushed to go from job to no job and living under a bridge. Realistically, I would have some time between the two extremes. (Plus, I’m still searching for the perfect bridge.) The time would come, however, when I would have to find some way to make money to survive with at least a few creature comforts, like leather journals, prosciutto and fontanel cheese. If at that time, the perfect bridge shelter remained elusive and I had found no other way to collect a paycheck, I would have to rejoin the 9-5 working world (audible sigh).
Another important consideration to leaving the corporate jungle is who would feed my cats/husband if I lived under a bridge? They would eat pizza every night, all lined up on the couch, watching out the window waiting for me to get tired of “roughing it” as a bridge troll and return home.
While I was mulling over the guardianship and pizza problem of the cats/husband, I found an ad for a llama farm where they were looking for someone to teach sustainable llama farming. At last, a job that really resonated. I could learn a sustainable way to live and support the gang (cats and Mister). The farm owners were even willing to pay $100.00 a month for the training opportunity. Sure, I would have to shovel llama shit, feed and groom the creatures, care for the garden and the list goes on and on of the required activities, but the experience would be priceless.
Unfortunately, the llama farm was too far away, and so like my bridge dream, I had to let it go.
If only there was a way to be creative and free, untethered to the corporate world, and still able to make enough money to support my habits of used books, red wine and writing. Then, I would be able to move forward from these crossroads and in the words of Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, I could stop “asking the good Lord why? And sigh, it’s I he told me we live to die.”
Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Tha Crossroads, Bone Thugs N Harmony, official video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9IXAJg4Vm0