My ex, who is a nice enough guy, is not terribly reliable when it comes to things like child support. I'm over that. On one hand, there's principle: It's a parent's responsibility to feed and clothe and support his or her children. On the other hand, for the time being, there's nothing to be gained by being The Enforcer, really. The girls and I are doing okay without the help, and simply accepting what is means that there's none of the conflict that can so crumple children. We're fine.
When he got fired and lost the kids' insurance benefits, it was harder to adapt. COBRA for the Little Waffles was just shy of $2000 a month, and freelance work doesn't come with benefits. I was going to have to get a "real" job.
The problem is that all of this occurred at a point when I was sort of on the cusp of having exactly the career I wanted. My pet project, Of Scars, was getting tons of attention as we finalized arrangements for our opening on October 1. I was working with someone on developing The Novel. A bunch of crazy things were falling into place. It seemed a shame to have to abandon all of the work that had gotten me there to take whatever job would pay me benefits.
Somewhere in a conversation with Waffle Guy, it occurred to one of us that this might represent a unique opportunity. Student insurance policies are a great value for the money. With a little bit of planning, it was possible that I could go back to school and insure the kids, for less than the cost of COBRA. I'd be able to go to school, plus freelance and nurture Of Scars on the side, right? And it represented a unique opportunity to set something right in my life. I was a very, very young mother, and so I got the education I could complete most quickly, and not the one I wanted. Maybe this was an opportunity to stop spinning my wheels, and to start embracing the things that move me.
We hatched a plan on a Thursday evening. The following Monday, I started classes.
It's so hard. Juggling a full course load, three school-aged kids and work is much more difficult than I thought it would be. My kids, used to having a highly responsive mom, must now learn to be more independent so that I can study. My dogs, used to daily trips to the dog park and endless games of Fetch, sit at my feet and look up at me with eyes that clearly say, "Can we go play now?" There's minimal sleep and a maximum amount of stuff to do. I feel like I am being pulled in a million different directions.
I'm not entirely sure I can do it.
Here's the strange part: It's stressful, but it's delicious. I feel like I finally have a chance to see what I'm made of, and for the first time in my life, I suspect that I might really like what I discover. Someday, anyway, when I've got time to think about it.
I'm taking a class called "Perspectives in Non-Western Art", which I thought would be an easy, fun way to get myself back into the groove. In reality the class is super demanding. There's oh-so-much to memorize, and it's all built on history in parts of the world that mainstream American academia pretty much ignores, so there's no reference point for the memorization. Analyzing artistic techniques on slides in a lecture hall is much less exciting than seeing those pieces first-hand. The prof, who seems like a lovely person, is unbearably dry as a lecturer.
Strangely, I'm starting to absolutely love that class.
It's where I met Shiva, one of the gods in the Hindu trinity. He is called The Destroyer. In class, we have analyzed dozens of images of the many incarnations of Shiva. I really like him.
Often, we see Shiva with many faces. He bears a crescent moon on his head, and his hair is matted. In paintings, he smears himself with ashes. Sometimes, he holds a trident. Most often, we see him pictured in meditation. In my favorite incarnation, Shiva as Nataraja, or "Lord of the Dance", spreads his four arms and dances the Tandava, the dance that is associated with the destruction of the world. Always, his face is serene.
At first, I thought Shiva was spooky, but I'm beginning to understand that perhaps he and I have met before. For all his destructiveness, he is a benevolent force, seen as the cause of regeneration and renewal in the Hindu world. Perhaps this is why he smiles as he dances the Tandava, stepping on Apasmara Purusha, the demon of ignorance, while he moves. Perhaps he knows that sometimes, we are content to exist in our ignorance until our way of life is shaken.
In Hindu temples, it is commonplace to circumambulate--to walk in a meditative, circular path--around sacred objects. In Buddhism, circumambulation of Buddha's relics is practiced. Sacred texts in Judaism and Christianity recall divinely ordered circumambulations of the walls of Jericho. On Islamic pilgrimages to Mecca, the devout circumambulate the Kaaba. It seems that a meditative need to explore sacred spaces is engrained in human existence.
A month ago, I had a plan, and it looked nothing at all like my life looks today. I'm grateful for the opportunity that this situation has presented, but the transition is really difficult some days. The truth is, sometimes, Shiva visits. Plans change. We don't have a choice. This time, I was able to immediately recognize that the outcome would be worth it, but that's not always the case. Sometimes, we lose people who are dear to us. Homes are taken. We get sick. Families split up. Sometimes, Shiva is devastating.
Looking around at the remains of my plans, I'm trying to be conscious of the sacred space that my life has become. I'm trying to circumambulate the confines of my situation, meditatively exploring the new boundaries and possibilities of this chapter of my life. This time, I can't wait for what's next.
