A Job to Make You Happy

Ok, for those masochistic readers that do not understand, will not understand, and label my ideals, ideas, principals, and life as generally selfish, immature, and lazy without opening up their hearts in any way to see the view from this side. . .well, here's another update - and no drama.  I save the drama for my close friends who can handle it. 

I am getting my Pennsylvania EMT license re-instated.  This is an emergency medical technician license, a step down from paramedic. This is a license I paid for with waitress wages and completed when I was 9 months pregnant with my second child, after paying 100% for his home-birth - no mooching off of the welfare system there for an unnecessary hospital birth when I could do it all on my own and did. . .

I worked as an EMT in New Jersey until I developed a rare heart condition with pregnancy and was forced to quit, then the license lapsed because I stayed at home with the babies when my husband left.  Now, that's not so dramatic, just the truth. 


I also have an interview this afternoon for position of outstanding pay that would enable me to upgrade my equipment enough to seriously pursue the documentary and complete the bus.

Also, I have the need to clarify - I have worked all my life since I was 15.  The only time I have not worked is right after my children were born.  I paid for all of my college education.  And I graduated with a bachelor's at age twenty.  At the top of the class.  After a full scholarship.  I then worked for Americorps.  That's supposed to make you feel like I gave back to the community.  I have voluntarily chosen at this point in my life to physically remove those things that I am not entitled to because it's not an equal agreement -remove those and for a short while I was homeless.  Now, it's an equal situation.  I only say the next sentence for those whose imaginations run dry once money is not involved. . .

I could split the mortgage with my dear friend, who if you ask her, thinks I am helping her more then she is helping my family.  If that is mooching, I suppose marriages are mooching, children under 12 are moochers, stay-at-home mothers are hippies and the president's kids are lazy.  There have been in existence barter systems, communities, situations that are understood to be equal.  I don't expect everyone to understand, I just hope they will. 

In communities, we all have different jobs.  Like the Christian church, Jesus Christ teaches that there are many parts to the body - you cannot have a face without a mouth and eyes, or a body with four hands and no feet.  Some of us are meant to be doctors, trash collectors, teachers, artists, children, invalids, mentally retarded, raped, saved, imprisoned, addicts to give the counselors a job, photographers, dreamers, baristas, super-models (hahah), dog-catchers, preachers, homeless, and yes. . .hippies, if that's what Jesus was.

If I can bring about change without wealth, through equally sharing homes with others, without burdening the welfare system needlessly - then it won't be with getting a 9-5, leaving my kids at school for 11 hours a day - 55 hours a week.  It will be from the inside, from teaching them the importance of life and love, what is necessary, what is frivolous.  And so very much is frivolous. 

“We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.”
 - Mother Teresa

“Who, being loved, is poor?”
- Oscar Wilde

“But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.”
- William Yeats

“The mother of revolution and crime is poverty”
- Aristotle

Mysteries of the Faith

Well, the Faith has been challenged and questioned, and truthfully, I've failed completely at having any.  To have a constant reminder, I had 'faith' tattooed on my wrist, believing that word in such a constantly viewed place would lend me a stronger belief, leading to that peace that no one can understand.  

Here I sit in the spare room - the 'craft' room - the boys' newest room in southwest Philly suburbs, contemplating all that I've lost, or never had, or lacked, and how to start over.  Again.  I'm 33 and it seems like I keep on starting over.  I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.  Last night Anna and I talked late into the am, I - admitting my blindspots and also realizing how I am doing what I intended to do - community.  It's not in-place, pre-conceived, standard-set - more like fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants and need and love-based.  This is the third home we've lived in since late August, and the third home with children.  First it was two children, married friends, then a single mom of three, now a single mom of one.  There are chores here and I have a certain barter agreement that helps both families wonderfully.  There are expectations and freedom.  It is a small scale of how communities work, maybe for me it's a great exercise and model for how relationships work.  I say for me, but really for everyone involved.  

Since moving here, 15 minutes from Philadelphia, where Mercury was born and I met her father, our first intended stop on the proposed bus journey - I have had waves of doubt, panic, depression, excitement, motivation, exhaustion, and constant reflection.  Because of needs I see now I have re-configured the entire idea of a bus.  I'm not sure into what - Sirius sits in North Carolina in my friend's yard between his farmhouse and an old graveyard, snugly resting under some pines and maples, equally watching over the dearly departed, solemning gaurding over the crumbling, moss-embraced stones and my single father friend and his sweet son on the other side - a symbolic dividing wall of physical life and death. . .I accidentally left the boys' winter coats tucked away on the bus.  We are truly living simply, and it does feel great, not lacking, up in the great northeast - where even my friend goes a bit overboard for Christmas.  It's an increasingly material world, and being in a metropolitan area, it has really hit.  I'm so proud of the kids, though - First we sell most of our possessions (toys and clothes and shoes included - how many shoes do kids need in America??), then pack our remaining things on a school bus.  Then pack a much smaller amount into our Honda Civic (the old version, the antique - 1992), and you'll never guess how well they are doing and how much they appreciate and how little they want for.  They play for hours with the same handful of legos.  Mercury carries her doll everywhere and makes things constantly for her instead of whining about the brand name accessories available that question my ethics and values - 'American Girl' dolls all made in China and exceptionally expensive, yet neccessary if you are anyone in the public's eye.   I was bought a very expensive ticket to see one of my favorite bands, The Cure, in NYC - all I had to wear were some workout pants and a plain blue t-shirt.  Ten years ago I may have decided against attending if it meant no flashy wardrobe to be doned.  But i was thankful I had something clean.  Being surrounded by constant shopping and nicer cars and cable tv (OH NO!!!!!!) and especially the month of December has really been an interesting lesson in simplicity.  

Speaking of, no - I still haven't been down to the Simple Way, because before my ideals and dreams comes my children, which I've looked over in ways since our initial fail to set sail in September, so this adjusting time has been spent on them. . .But truly, I think of Sirius and traveling the country and experiencing all the different communities on a level where we are involved. . .well, i wanted simple - we have it - I wanted community with our direct involvement and participation - we have it - I wanted travel - well, we are 500 miles from where we begun. . .

Now my focus includes auto-focus on my Nikon, documenting my journey for home and my kids' journey as a result, whatever that looks like, wherever that is, with whomever it is with.  Our bouncing around isn't random, isn't failure, isn't punishment, isn't a reflection of my shortcoming - it's been a gift, it HAS been planned - just not by me (by the Universe, God) - it is and has been golden opportunity to change and grow, to be truly thankful this Thanksgiving - for beds and warmth and a working toilet, for socks and friends who care, for friends who open up everything without holding back at all.  This short 3 months has seemed like a lifetime, and has been - from an engagement to single, extreme poverty, incredible people, sailboats, ICU's, hard work, tears and panic and tattoes, pretending to be normal, finding God in the most un-likey places like my tears in my car 2 hours from where I call home last night, running on empty for 96 miles through the city throbbed with optical glows in ebbs and flows down I95. . . 

God and I had a nice conversation last night and I kinda got the feeling God was telling me I've not only lost focus of the point in my sites, but dropped the spy glass all together.  God was very gentle about it all, though.  This morning I am beginning to look for that spy glass - I think I dropped it in the car. . .