Unseated
The office lease renewal arrived. Every year, without fail, the rent goes up and I must decide if I'm going to stay, as I have a month to do now. I could work comfortably in less space. Living in a studio apartment, I justify this expense as an investment in more personal, albeit work-focused space. It's also a long-pending growth opportunity with empty desks ready to be filled. I gave myself the assignment to write a midyear assessment this week, but looking backward doesn't come naturally. Looking ahead and reveling in the potential of future ambitions carries much more energy and appeal to me. If I ever lost the ability to contemplate what next, depression would grip me. As much as I've imagined the office being occupied by colleagues, I enjoy being the first, last and sometimes only occupant during the day. The physical space provides a psychological platform that is valuable as much for what is there as what isn't. Absence and presence, high ceilings and custom made, height adjustable, boldly blue linoleum covered desks. Details and office supplies. Whether a factor of my natural impatience, or a greater awareness of aging, I yearn for more capacity to propel my several fledgling enterprises forward faster. And yet, I also appreciate being so personally immersed in their unfolding. Do I stay another year, or go? When I close my laptop in a minute, an image from my Bridge of the Gods project plastered to the device's case will remind me of that still-pending undertaking. For a moment, I will admire the picture and savor not having it done, not having decided, the infinite potential of being in transition, not yet having arrived, and maybe not wanting to.
