Tuesday, July 2, 2013


Goodbye work happy hours are a crapshoot and you better be ready for anything, including something that could turn out to be incredibly awkward.

Tonight I sat through what I could best describe as a last-day-of school experience, but I was the only one leaving and was sheepishly asking people to sign my school yearbook so that I would have some signatures in it. Because that is what you are supposed to do when you are leaving.

Everyone was nice, and the sting of missing the mark is now gone. But it was a good reminder that it is not always necessary to adhere to tradition if the conditions don't feel quite right. Every once in a while, it is a good idea to fight against convention and refrain from doing something that you think you should be doing just because everyone else thinks it is normal and fun.

Speaking of, I never liked kites as a kid.

The cheap plastic kites we used to fly in our neighborhood seemed unpredictable and vulnerable to me. There was only this thin piece of string keeping the kite connected to you. The higher the kite went, the more foreign it felt. When (if) the kite ever actually returned (versus fatefully crashing into a tall, tangled tree), it would seem different upon return to earth, like a strange moon rock brought back from outer space.

Right now, today, this week, this month, I feel like I am one of the cheap plastic kites we used to fly as kids. I feel vulnerable, unpredictable and only tethered to a thin piece of string.

But, I am also, in a sense, free. I am all wound up, ready to launch and it is time for me to fly. Somewhere.

I resigned from my job 
and I am about to move to a new city 
to start a new life. 

I feel positive about this change, and I know that it will bring great things. But I am also experiencing the strange interim that comes when you are in-between life's chapters.

I do not know quite how to capture it – the feeling of being apart and of dislodging from the pack. It is a good and bad feeling all at once. It is a brave and lonely feeling. It is an act of complete solidarity with the Self, an ever-so-soft F-you to the life you are leaving behind.

I didn't think that things would turn out this way. I thought that at this point in my life I would be striding down a different path, in alignment with what adults are Supposed to Be Doing and not turning back to re-explore a world of intense work, travel and unknowns.

Becoming unstuck does not entirely mean you are free. At the moment when you dislodge from a fixed state in life you are simply on a journey to becoming re-attached to something different. That in-between phase – the time when you have untangled yourself from what was and when you are traveling toward what will be, you become fluid. Nothing is certain. It is a time to float with your weathered plastic wings and hope that the string that binds you to your true Self stays taut and does not wither or break.

Incidentally, the work happy hour was doomed from the get-go because the bar was too crowded and so we had to convene in a dark, roped-off party room that was away from the beaten path and situated near the bathrooms in the back. The room looked like this (a photo I took once the place cleared out after sharing one collective round of drinks)

Third grade birthday party, eat your awkward heart out. 
I got you beat.

The end.

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