Georgia Unseen

I've been in Athens, GA for a week now, so what's up with the lack of posts and Athens pictures?

Well, maybe partly because of the fog and rain that have predominated instead of expected sunshine, I haven't been very inspired to take pictures. Some permissions I need to request also.

What I will say, in case I didn't already, I am loving it here. The Georgia Review--what an honor to get to work there for a couple weeks, in a wonderfully functional work environment, with people who love their work and are passionate about it and are fine writers too. I'm sure it's not perfect all the time--nothing is. But even though I was dead with fatigue by the end of Friday, I was expecting to recharge over the weekend and looking forward to Monday. Looking forward to Monday?! How does it get better than that? For me, even better would be to have an editing job at a literary magazine where you could work from home some of the time; to be able to focus in on something without the distractions of the workplace--like drilling into the roof and hammering; we're on the top floor and it was like they were drilling into our heads, but moving around like a psychopathic polyphonic poltergeist. And without the exhaustion of getting through the five-day commute and the stress of being around people all day. Well, and yes, the full-time editors do work at home at times. It really is that good!

So yes, gratitude abounding. Also, desire. Dear universe, writing, translating; this too. More, please?

Have you ever had the experience of moonlighting on what is essentially your dream job, and seeing that it really is as wonderful as you thought? What is your dream job? Is the universe vast enough that we can all find jobs to do that are what we love to do?

On this much, clarity. Otherwise, unseen, lacking like the photos. Where am I going after this, with this? Aren't I too busy to take on extra work? Should I move to GA? What the heck should I eat for dinner? What happened to my gut?

I'm letting my gut take its time. Much to process. I made a serious professional mistake, or series of mistakes, a few days ago, no doubt due to a combination of bipolar-based behaviors. Coming at the same time (in a different context) as doing this work I'm loving so much, it's given me serious self distrust, fear something like that might happen again, fear of my instability or am I no longer as fast a learner as I always have been or could I screw up something so important again. My gut was (physically) sick for two days. Washing out the fear, the shame, the pride, stubbornness, grandiosity that led to the mistake in the first place. My gut knew what was needed. I was still in the fog. I didn't see.

Never let doubt paralyze and pretend to you that you won't keep learning. As long as you're alive, breathing, moving, some part of you is learning something. Sometimes it's the same lesson over and over and over. Unburying the talking, squelched gut. It's saying something.

I intend to remember my gut is attached to my mouth. ("Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, divine Wisdom.")