“Style is knowing who you are,
what you want to say, and not giving a damn." ~ Orson Welles, this is very true, and I think your words relate
fashionably well to styling a meaningful life, too.
***
I slice my finger open on the hanger.
There is blood. The rivulets of red threaten to stain
the pristine shirts displayed on the rack.
I escape to the bathroom. Water cascades over the cut. I
wash and rewash the wound with soft soap.
This slither of sliced fingertip stings, and the
piercing echo reverberates through my entire hand, up into my arm.
The accidental wounding forces me to listen.
For the first time during my shift, I pause to breathe,
and listen to layers of sound clashing and creating the cacophony of life that
is my new workplace.
Outside the bathroom door Beyoncé’s “Hold Up” begins to
play.
Outside the bathroom door, conversations overlap from
troupes of tourists stopping in while meandering around Austin’s legendary
South Congress strip. There are adamant exclamations of praise from a gang of
girlfriends raising their voices to embrace and encourage their fellow friend
to BUY the dress (because, damn, girl, it’s on sale!).
There’s the screech and swoosh of hangers as clothes are
pulled, examined, and either determinedly selected or left to swing back into
place to be left in anticipation for an interested fashion mate. Pops of
laughter punctuate the unfolding invisible scene, and I catch fragments of an
ongoing debate on whether or not to buy the shoes (but do they look like me?).
Outside the door is a whirling dervish of life manifesting
as my current decision.
Are you listening,
now?
I cut myself because I was moving through the motions,
mindlessly, numbly, fearfully.
Fear. I am making decisions based from the foundation of
fear, of scarcity.
I cradle a finger oozing blood, and listen, not to
Beyoncé, but to the question incessantly on repeat.
What am I doing with my
life?
I’m too cognizant of time to not feel this question
hovering over my daily routine.
I’m too passionate to become comfortable and content in
nonchalance.
I’m too concerned with the state of the world to simply
coast by and play, at least in the general sense of the word…I yearn for a work
rhythm that feels like play because what I do and how I do it nurtures my
spirit and invites an expansion and a dynamic allowing of my lightheartedness
and my seriousness.
Perhaps I’m too demanding in my needs and wants for a
work place to ever match what I seek, so then it’s up to me to figure out a
blending and a meeting of passions and purposes so I can establish a sense of
ease, a sense of fulfillment in purpose.
Then, how? How do I merge and utilize my talents, my
passions, my heartaches toward achieving and wholeheartedly living a life that
feels deeply purposeful and serves humanity?
There’s no answer. There’s restlessness, and eagerness,
and even a desperation to race toward blooming, but I’m scattered and unclear
in the HOW.
And so here I am in the bathroom of an all-star boutique, feeling the weight of the question as Beyoncé sings and ladies pass
by marveling at sale finds.
What am I doing with my life?
This. Time to claim it.
This messy, bloody, chaotic moment is part of the
answering, is an integral part of figuring it out.
As a dazzling astrologer friend of mine recently told me
over sushi, there is no arriving. There is no moment where everything is tidied
up and we feel absolutely content. I mean, there may be, but we’re meant to
grow, to expand, to constantly push the comfort zone.
Working in a boutique has pushed my comfort zone. The
cash register demands all my thinking-power and pulls me back to silently
practicing basic math and folding skills as I bop around the store.
The truth is the work is already here. My soul-calling
is not waiting. My soul-work doesn’t start with the next job, whatever that may
be, and it certainty doesn’t begin once life is smooth and peaceful and
perfect.
My soul-work is outside that bright red bathroom door
where people flow in and around displays of jewelry, shoes, leather jackets and
skinny jeans.
The soul-work is showing up, staying true, and
practicing presence in listening and seeing people, the guests and my
coworkers, in acceptance and love.
The moment I rise up to meet life exactly as it, and channel my awareness and energy, my intentionality of love toward the sway
and sweep of boutique work is when I reclaim power and purpose. This is the moment when I can dwell in the calm in the storm, or find peace in between the Beyoncé and Frank Ocean playlist.
What am I doing with my life?
I’m living it. Bloody finger and open heart. I’m full-fledged
committed to the work, and the soul-work is in staying true to myself and
trusting my gut, in practicing forgiveness for all my stumbling and failings in
this transition.
I take three steady, slow breaths. I am here in this in between chapter that is fashionably rich in offering lessons in pausing and practicing presence in uncertainty.
I am here and I am listening.
I doctor up my finger, and slip back out into the boutique, and mindfully move to Nicki
Minaj as I flow right back into the colorful, glittery unknown of the ever-changing boutique scene.
