You’re going to have to wait. It seems simple. But, it can be one of the most agitating states to be in. It’s an in-between place. Not in the place you want to go and not quite in the place you were.
It seems to be true that the timing of endeavors isn't always predictable or easily planned. Dreams are deferred, life gets in the way, things change and new directions and diversions can pop up at any time. We may think the timing is right, but then we are let down and forced to move in another direction. Possibly, hopefully and with serendipity, into what may be a better fated direction. Sometimes though, you are the hanged man. It is then, simply, a time when you are going to have to wait.
My kids and I attended a school festival last evening. This was an entirely unplanned excursion which my son informed me of when I got home from work. My husband, who works as an assistant store manager at a natural grocery store works very long, irregular hours, so he wasn’t available for backup. We attended, and after what seemed like long enough I attempted to round up my 7 and 2 year old to head home. On the way out we had to make one last stop at the bounce house in the gym filled with yelling 1st -5th graders. In an effort to occupy my 2 year old (surely to get trampled inside), I diverted her to the face painting line while big brother bounced. We waited, and waited, and waited. My 2 year old daughter was patient. She was even composed! However, the little girl behind us in line was not. She was invading my bubble and stepping on my feet. When we finally arrived next in line, the 3rd grader behind us said,
“Can I go next before her? It’s time for me to go home?”
I was having a particularly painful RA day and by this point I was done. I turned around and tried to maintain a professional parenting voice but somehow a screechy, condescending, and irritated demon voice cracked through the air. “I’m Sorry”, I said, “You’re going to have to wait. She is 2 and has been waiting very patiently for her turn. We’re next, she will be quick, she’s only getting a little pink cat nose and whiskers.”
Agitated 3rd grader looked at me like she was confused. Our turn came, six quick whiskers later we were on our way out the door.
I am the hanged man. I'm in a state of waiting in that in-between place. I find out in a couple of weeks if I get into an MFA program.
The Art of Funeral Directing
At the close of 2014 I submitted my application for graduate study at the University Of Wisconsin-Madison department of fine art. I hope to return to graduate study in the area of painting and drawing and earn my MFA. I enthusiastically and courageously took a leap of faith to reclaim my path of living an artistic life. I am and will always be an artist, whether or not I have the fame and fortune of sustaining my family from the proceeds of the occupation. However, I want to live an artful life. I want to wake up each day and have that be the work that I am engaged in. I don’t believe that I can fully achieve all of my artistic goals without attaining this one. At 36 years old, with 2 young children and a recent diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis, the leading cause of disability in this country, I don’t know how long I will be able to work. I want my days of work to be filled with my passion. I decided to follow this goal, narrowly missing the path, with an altogether divergent direction-mortuary science and funeral directing. I’m sure it sounds very odd, but the truth of the matter is, artmaking is not altogether lucrative and funeral directing can be, it is also not a job for just anybody, and I am not just anybody. Consider these thoughts for a moment, and you may see that it is not as divergent a path afterall: