Work Life Balance - 2016

Written on February 21, 2016, our journey imported from our old website <3

I stood lost on a sunny rural street corner gawking at my maps app when a cow appeared and urinated next to me. A guy with a cart selling corn jangled by and women in all colors watched. It was actually very beautiful. I just stood there, the cow pissed, the people lived, it smelled like the manure mulch used for Pennsylvania farms. Like I-80 surrendered to greenery, even with the windows closed it seeps in and surrounds you.

I first thought, “I should walk away from this cow”. But, it wasn’t *that* close to me; a personal space difference appropriate for my American senses. I was just there, the cow’s natural but societally perceived “lewd” act kept me anchored just there, so I stayed just there in the sun with dirt in my sandals and also not knowing where “there” even was on a map.
Being “here/present” has been a struggle lately and always, for me (and presumably for most people). I’m obsessed with my work- like, *obsessed*. Always planning what to do and where to go next. I take my excitement for what I am doing here with the textiles and artisans as a beautiful thing- I mean, I came from unfulfilling office environments, constantly dreaming of creative expression in some other way. Now I live, eat, breathe, sleep what I am doing. I’ve wanted this always, so I don’t care to turn it off. It keeps me alive. But it’s causing *so much* residual anxiety which manifests itself socially and in my sleep cycle.

As passionate people, where do we draw the line? When do we shut that off, how do we shut that off? Should we? Should I just exercise a lot more and save up my endorphins? We live once, just one little time, and if we are in love with our reality- why not allow that to consume us, if we’re headed in (what we perceive to be) the right direction?

This feels like a “work-life” balance issue, although in my previous (office) experience this term referred to ensuring we were able to go home at a reasonable time. To have a life. But now my life is my work- and it seems, when addressing what one does, “work” and “MY work” are two entirely different ways of being.