Unmoored

So alienating, being Jewish at Christmas. Even though I’m about as far from Being Jewish as one can be, it resonates at this time of year, when our dark house is surrounded by houses and electric reindeer wrapped in colored lights. Our menorah blazed, one candle at a time, a couple of weeks ago. Barely noticeable through our dining room window. The only one on the block, in the neighborhood. But now, our festival over, I watch and wait as the rest of the world celebrates. I am not jealous. But I can’t help wanting to feel part of something larger, or more important, to not feel excluded, an outlier.

I had my Exit Interview (over the phone, no less), so now I am officially cut loose (even though I’ll be paid through the end of the month). It is relieving and sad. I’m back where I was three years ago, a floating freelancer. I’d hoped I’d dropped my anchor for the last time, but then, as I’m still learning, nothing is certain, or unchanging, ever.

Untethered, I wander and stumble, distracted by all that I must do: hustle work, all the time, hustle, hustle. Keep my income up. There’s a college tuition to cover. And lacrosse camps. And the winter heating bill. It’s a racket of worry that drowns my inner voice and makes it impossible to create something out of the essential whisper.

So, this is what the week must be: listening for the whisper. Taking long walks in the woods with the dog. Paying attention to the inner voice. Carrying a notebook. Capturing a kernel and bringing it home to tend.