It is Sunday evening and cool air comes through the window. I have been searching job listings all evening. Let’s say I’m in a contemplative mood.
I read and re-read travel books: Vikram Seth’s “From Heaven Lake,” Pamela Logan’s “Among Warriors – A Woman Martial Artist in Tibet.” I am seduced by these adventures. I can’t even count how many times I’ve re-read Jeff Goldblum’s books “Mr. Raja’s Neighborhood,” “The Size of the World,” “Shopping for Buddhas.” I am determined to write my own travelogue one day. Wasn’t that one of my earliest ambitions as a child? Not just to go to Paris, Rome, or London, but to write about them, to describe them. Somehow I felt that describing things to other people would be my destiny. At my current job, I describe opera to people. Would that the job itself interested me more.
OK I’ll say it: I am experiencing fear of 50. I have been through 6 months of self-recrimination and regret. My old tape recordings in my head have been playing messages of my wasted past and talents. Poor me. I just realized that I now will refer to myself as “older.” that hurts. Nothing of my youth (not that I had one) remains. Nothing to do but deal with it. As we say in the Program, we will not regret the past nor will we wish to shut the door on it.
I have been in a funk ever since the July teaching job ended. There is nothing teaching-wise on the horizon, and I am getting discouraged. More resumes were fired off on Saturday morning, more will go tomorrow. I am widening my possibilities by also applying for art history teaching jobs at community colleges.
Japan turned me down. At least, the AEON corporation did. No explanation, just a polite email. Oh well. I have now turned my sights to China. Fickle, ain’t I? I am exploring Zhuhai, Xi’an, Shenzhen, and other cities. My goal will be to land a university job. I dream of vast vistas of mountains, desert, and windy plains. I am concerned about ending up either in a steamy subtropical climate or a city choked with pollution.
I taught for the final time yesterday at an L.A. Shanti training, ending an 11-year volunteer relationship with the organization. It saddened me to see its loss of values, as the nonprofit moves in one direction, and I in another. It is time to break the ties. It is time to leave L.A. It has served its purpose. After beating myself into submission at the gym and enjoying the steam room, I dscovered on the way home that I had lost my ATM card. The end to a perfect day.