parallelograms

Funny how our lives run in parallel isn’t it? Not just that we each do the same kinds of cyclic seasonal and diurnal things in parallel to each other (birthdays, lunch, going to the toilet, getting the flu, getting better), but the bigger struggles/ journeys/ realisations that we each have, no doubt someone out there is having them too. Got a parcel a few weeks ago from a friend overseas, someone I used to work with. He is working in London, doing the same kind of thing he did here, that we both did here. He is smart as a whip, organised, tidy, but inward – he is quiet and reserves comment at work, serious, stern even. He is detail focused and strategic. All that. And. And he yearns for something else, something less deadline bound, desk bound, something that comes from colour and expression. Something where he can be spontaneous, silly, expressive. He wants to be a graphic designer, or do community art projects, or similar. And he does that stuff – he’s designed a bunch of brochures, ads, covers for reports (and done a cracking job) at work alongside of doing his actual work his work (and as a volunteer for a not for profit he volunteers at). Just recently he’s got his first paid design gig, for a shop, he was recommended by a friend. In his letter he talks about how the feedback has been a confidence booster and how he realises that feeling comfortable with it is the only way he’s going to be able to transition career.

It resonates for me as I the past few weeks lash out and be daring and think ‘f*k it maybe I can just do some stuff for fun, and make it a big part of my life, even if it doesn’t pay or pay well or pay well straight away, even if it’s a bit ‘indulgent’, or it rings my ‘selfish’ internal alarm bells’. And I know the main way I can do this is to demystify it. Reach out to the unknown, the far away, and bring it close enough to sniff. Make it known. Sleep with it under my pillow so that it smells familiar and not far away and strange and potentially full of risk. So to speak. So I’ve been meeting with people (who I’ve never met before), talking to them about their experiences, asking for suggestions. Which is funny considering how often I’ve suggested that strategy to others seeking career shifts, but never done myself (because I wasn’t ready, I guess). It brings these options closer and makes them more tangible, less spooky and imbued with otherness.

So he and I both grapple with this in parallel. Making something different feel possible. And before anyone springs to the comments button with a vaguely condescending but steadfastly encouraging comment about ‘of course it’s possible, you can do anything’, let me say, yes yes, I know. But the thing, the really important thing here is there is knowing and then there is feeling. I can know, but have the strongest internal emotional aversion to something. We are more than our rationality, more than our moonlight sliver thin story of rationality. Underlying this are our stories, our fears, our aversions, our survival stories. And they run deep, like roots, running sideways in the dark dirt, we barely remember they’re there until we come across one up close, exposed, with earthy must still dusted along its reedy length. And then we are surprised, and stare in wonder at how far they must reach, beneath this soil that we stand on.