Owls & Goals

The past couple of days, while swimming laps in the early morning, the water the same temperature as the air, I have been musing on small goals. Lately, the lap swim lanes at the pool have been crowded--no doubt partly because of the heat, but also, perhaps, because of small personal goals.

People who planned to lap swim regularly but suddenly realized the summer is already slipping away. People who are participating in triathlons, now in training for the swimming part.

Except for post-biopsy week and a couple travel days, I have been there every day the pool was open (that is, not on theft day and not when there was lightning). I realize I'm like those runners who run in all weathers! I've been there when the air was in the 60s, shivering when I got out, shivering on the ride home, but swimming anyway!

I am steady and regular, swim at a constant pace, and this is basically how I live my life. It's like the patience and persistence with which I pursue poetry, or anything else.

And it lacks small goals. So did my other "careers." There weren't milestones, there weren't specific things I wanted to achieve. I just wanted, simply, to do what I love doing and make a living at it. Sigh....

I stumbled upon some major achievements! Became part of the Steppenwolf Theatre's Second Company and  did mainstage shows there when I was a "struggling actress" as they say. Co-edited a literary magazine for a decade! And I'm glad of that. But none of this helped me "make a living," as in support myself financially, at what I love doing. And I haven't been able to turn my head around, like a wise old owl (?), to any other way of looking at it.

I still think my head's on straight, though. I'm OK in spirit. This is what I am, and I am still going along swimmingly.

Three things have reinforced me in this, in wildly different ways, yesterday and today--making me laugh, wince, and nod in assent. Take a look at this wonderful article by David Graham on Emily Dickinson's "barefoot rank," this funny poster on misery at Book of Kells, and this wonderful poem by Hannah Stephenson, called "After After." Read the poem, and then click on the small title under the poem's title to see the image. Sigh...