Adventures in Renaissance Personhood

A few weeks ago Sean brought home a Continuing Education catalogue for me. By the time I was done with it, I had 7 classes tabbed: Sewing, French, Self-Defense, Upholstery repair, InDesign, Kundalini Yoga, Memoir Writing, and Belly Dance. As I ponder the cost of pursuing all these classes, my mind goes to the time and money I’ve already put towards learning. I have degrees, certification and/or training in the following:

• Literature and poetry writing (Bachelor of Arts) 
• Piano performance courses at Kent State
• Yoga Instructor 
• NCBTMB Massage Practitioner Certificate 
• Reiki Level 1
• Mental health counseling 
• Chakra therapy
• Ayurveda

Not to mention experience in the following:

• Physical Therapy Aide
• Piano/violin lesson instructor
• General/choral music instructor
• Barista 
• Bluegrass fiddler 
• Music theater
• Massage therapy, yoga therapy and counseling 
• Songwriting
• Layout and design
• Copy editing and writing

I also have an interest in the following:

• Herbal medicine
• Dance (ballroom/bellydance/contact/ecstatic) 
• Haberdashing
• French translation

So as you see, I’m a Renaissance Woman, and could easily study for the rest of my life. But I’m too snobby, or perhaps embarrassed, to be like my Gen-Y contemporaries with escalating student loan debt. Also, I’m married now, so my financial decisions don’t just impact me. I want to live a life of possibility, and to be able to help others with money. So, I need an income.

My most recent profession as a domestic violence counselor was a bit intense, leading me to consider other options. But what else can I make out of the above interests? I mean, have you heard of any bluegrass fiddler positions lately? I can just imagine the ad:

“Fortune 500 company seeks creative individual to fulfill a variety of functions. Mornings will be spent preparing latte’s and gluten free baked goods, reading top news stories and screening for interesting material. Each day by lunch will produce an essay or song based on current events or entertaining life anecdotes. Bluegrass fiddle playing, interpretive dance and yoga instruction in afternoon. This individual will play an important part in improving the workplace culture and boosting the paradigm shift of 21^st century. Salary commensurate with experience.”

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve been told by many that my talents are valuable to society. To be a musician, particularly, seems to be a skill that is envied and treasured close to the American heart. All I’m saying is that these talents won’t land me a stable job with benefits. And no matter how creative I am, I still like to have a paycheck. I like that money coming in every month, so I can know where I'll be in 5, 10 or 20 years -- or for that matter, next month.

Some might say that security is overrated. Massive layoffs in the U.S. since 2008 shook our idea of “stability” to the core, and although things seem to be recovering, no one can be sure. Some have adopted a view that being employed by a company doesn’t grant one security, so one might as well go his own way, as self-employment is no less risky by comparison. For some, this will be much more rewarding and possibly more lucrative than a steady 40-hour job. This may now be an option for me, since I’m living in Canada’s largest city, where freelance writers, yogis and musicians have a better chance to gather enough capital to make a living. My fears about small-town economics and lack of healthcare are no longer relevant here. But do I really want to be self-employed?

The obvious benefit of self-employment, and the most salient here, is: I can make a living by being me. I can be one of what I consider to be modern royalty: those who can do what they love, and make a living of it. What a pinnacle of individualism! I could even make a living… by talking about myself! For example, by writing a blog, or churning out an endless stream of songs about my feelings! Then when I’m about 40, I’ll get very depressed and disappear from the public eye, and later emerge as a member of an esoteric religion!

Oh wait, sorry, I got confused with my journal from 5 years ago. I mean, I could make a living by playing at people’s weddings, writing articles for magazines, and teaching yoga. Maybe even making greeting cards and/or gluten free pastries. Sure, I could do that – but my financial security would always be in question. I will be on call 24-7 to market and represent myself to the public. I will be responsible for my own taxes, accounting, and insurance. I may work 60+hours a week, all so I can say I’m free.

All of these questions would seem so frivolous to people of my parents’ and grandparents’ generation. In the 1940’s and 50’s, the “American Dream” was just to have enough money to buy a house and car. It didn’t matter if you were a gas station attendant or a college professor. By the 70’s, things had changed enough so that my parents, who both worked 9-to-5 jobs, felt a little depressed by the whole thing. By the time I hit adulthood, the “American Dream” had a whole lot more to do with self-realization. Through attending college, you were supposed to “find your bliss” and pursue it for the rest of your life.

Something fell apart for my generation. A large percentage of my friends, though intelligent and skilled people, never found the Dream. We are 28, 30, even nearing 40 and still searching. Some of us never fit into the college track, and since the dignity of blue collar work has fled, they slave away their 40 hours and live in poverty. Those who refuse to work for low wages attempt to learn a trade – massage therapy, fixing cars or painting houses – so they can shore up some dignity, cash, and freedom, while devouring knowledge in their spare time. Some of us keep attending school looking for that one thing that feels right. We all hunger to understand the world, to understand ourselves, and to have a slice of the American Pie.

I'm slightly embarrassed by my generation. Despite having more privilege than any generation past, we have such a hard time applying ourselves and feeling satisfied. What happened? 

Maybe it’s not that work is unfit for us; maybe it’s that we are unfit for work. We’ve come to place individualism over the value of contributing to the whole. We’ve been told that when we find the right job, we’ll be complete. (Incidentally, through all my dozens of jobs, I’ve never found happiness through work. But here, keeping house and doing random creative things, I feel happier than ever.)

Maybe we just expect too much. We believe the perfect job will draw happiness from us like honey from a hive, much like the romantic fantasy of finding “the one”. Like a romance, we want that job to draw out the best in us and provide steady support. But in a romance, there is give and take. And in work, we must work hard if we want to get paid. And so, I’m just realizing, that’s what I’m going to do. Here I am in this pause, so I'm going to work - to write, record songs, learn new skills - and see who comes in for the honey. It might turn into a self-employed situation. Or it might be a hive that I quietly tend while I'm working a nice stable job. I’ll let you know.

Adventures in Public Transportation

My relationship with the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) is kind of a love-hate one. I’ll be waiting for a “frequent service” (5-10 minute) bus for 20 minutes, ready to rip the driver’s head off, but when I get on the subway, it’s all OK again. The Toronto subway is safe, clean, and efficient. And overall, the staff is polite and helpful, always willing to answer silly questions for visitors or new immigrants such as myself (“Can I go in now? Oh, ok...”). The downside is, navigating public transportation takes up a significant part of my day, sometimes 3 hours, and until recently, a big chunk of brain-space. My first few weeks of riding the subway were full of surprises, map-checks, and mishaps. Here are two of my favorites:

1. The “Bloor Street” incident
It was my first time on the Bloor subway and I was disoriented, and running late. I hadn’t yet figured out how to follow the markings inside the station directing you to either the main street or the cross street. So, I asked another young lady to point me toward Bloor. She said, “oh, for that, I think you need to get back on the subway”. We went back and forth a few times, but she was certain that Bloor St. was nowhere nearby. After commiserating about us both being newcomers, I departed and found Bloor street in about 10 paces.  

2. “Always stay in the system” … but if you don’t, eh, it’s OK.
Riding the subway is kind of a nervous system overload for me. Even though the TTC took great care to make it a self-explanatory process, there has been much to learn –the order of the streets, how and when to obtain a transfer, how to tell which way is West or East when you exit, and where to catch the bus. I’ve slowly learned these basics, but one was taught to me in an embarrassing fashion. I was coming home from one of my first long trips, and I was a little dazed. I exited the subway and walked upstairs to catch the bus, going across a large intersection to the only bus stop in sight. The girl waiting there told me that my bus stopped underground and I would probably have to pay to get back into the “system”. I walked back and started explaining myself to the worker at the booth. I figured I should have a lengthy story in order to prove I wasn’t lying. The worker kept asking, “where did you come from?” I said, “well, I got on the 506 Carlton at College Street, then the subway, and now I’m here.” He just said, “So you came from the subway?” I blinked and said yes… was that all he wanted? “Go ahead,” he waved me through the gate.

My relationship with TTC works because we both value reducing our carbon footprint, and that’s really the glue that holds us together. But, things change, and there may come a day when I must leave the TTC for a fuel-efficient hatchback. The TTC is far from perfect; it’s more expensive and less efficient than people here would like, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle a 90-minute round-trip commute (the minimum for me to get downtown) once I start working. For now, I’m thankful to have a break from the hassles of car ownership, and a spacious enough life to enjoy it.