It's Monday morning, and I and my steaming cup of coffee have almost certainly left the house, toting a hundred plus pumpkin cut-outs, a couple of live gourds, and a bag full of geometric shapes.
The fact that my New York Yankees are even now hunkered down in preparation for Game 1 of the World Series has no doubt bolstered my mood. I say no doubt, because the game determining if they make the Fall Classic is still in progress as I pre-write this post, but I'm feeling confident. However, even in the unlikely event that I am wrong about the outcome of the game, I am fortunate that I enjoy my job as an art teacher enough that my Monday doesn't depend on external good news to be enough to keep me afloat.
I know that in my 25 minute drive to school, I'll pass a couple hundred people heading to places that will suck the life out of them for the next eight hours. And as much as I enjoy my job, I have to admit that I look forward each week to Wednesday, when I complete my out-of-the-house work week and become my own boss.
Now, lately I have to admit that I haven't even been able to fund my own coffee on what I've been making with myself at the helm-- a fact that I must submit as a downside to self employment. Were it not for the touch-and-go economic realities of ditching an employer, I suspect most people would rather march to their own cadence.
My husband and I spent a fair amount of time talking about self-employment during our weekend in the mountains. We talked about times when we're happiest, what we're doing at those times, and how a living could be made doing enjoyable activities from 9-5 each day. Right now our dreams are too undeveloped and uncertain to share, but I think they are alive, in the way a seed lives underground in those days just before it germinates. In those early days one has no way of knowing what magic may transpire as the seed lies hidden beneath the surface. Given the proper nourishment, it may come to light in the appropriate time, or, conversely, may not thrive for reasons that are never known.
What I do know is that a seed has been planted, and it is waiting just beneath the visible surface of day-to-day happenings. It's at that touchy point where too much tending could be harmful, but to ignore it would be an even greater mistake. For now, though, it is mostly something to be treasured as a hope.
It's Monday morning. What does that mean for you?