Archive for empathy

Wet and Mild

Posted in esoterica, family, nature with tags , , , on March 15, 2011 by darcyarts

The morning is newish. It’s 7:30, daylight saving time. Temperatures are mild.

Indoors the doings are swathed in a gray punctuated by electric light.

Work continues as usual. There is comfort in that enterprise.

It will be a long and busy day. Fresh Guatemalan coffee beans, crushed in the blender, fill the air with the promise of a comforting energy boost, maybe an aid for clearing out mind sludge. Later, the ride out to the college, more stitching, a trip to the post office and this evening a raretreat, a visit to a friend.

It’s a monastic life we have grown here near the river for the sake of art and peace. The calm makes the work possible. It’s time to be very grateful that we can be so still while in another kind of motion.

My prayer today — bring the light, sooth the suffering of others, lift the veil of ignorance from our eyes, let all souls rise.

I Quit My Job

Posted in socialization with tags , , , on February 3, 2009 by darcyarts

Though my heart was pounding wildly and I felt that all the blood in my veins might evaporate in some mystical disintegration hoodoo, I kept shoving my things into my big black bag — my book of synonyms and antonyms, a map, tea bags, gum, suckers, a small mirror, tiny toy cars I’d found on the “free” table in the lunch room.

I’d already done the heavy removal the last time I was close to believing I couldn’t spend another minute trapped in a senseless power struggle with someone who knew nothing about me.

I tried in a number of ways to cure the bad blood but it only made things worse.

Yesterday, it became absolutely clear that my adversary, someone who prides themselves on their journalistic objectivity, is incapable of applying it in a managerial situation.

When I mention that they may not be seeing things clearly, they become extremely insulted, angry and in my opinion, irrational.

I think about it for a while, I feel the point of no return present itself. I say, uncle. Game over.

I refuse to sign the first “work improvement plan” because it is rife with prejudice and false portrayals.

“I’m not feeling well,” I say.

I sit the unsigned document and final mileage reimbursement sheet  on the desk and walk out the door.I don’t look back.

At my desk I leave my little string of fairy lights glowing — red, amber, green and blue. We are light.

I am truly sorry for the hardship this brings upon the workers who remain but most of them already know the ship is sinking. The smart ones are planning their escape route.