Monday, June 29, 2015
6/29 - Day Off
A rest day! I spent the morning leafing through a beautiful interior design book. Like a kid, I love oversized books with big pictures. Also, I can see how her tasteful, comfortable, and beautifully curated home is reflected in her book. I have a latent love for interior (and industrial) design. I wonder for the day I'll curate my own home again?
The rest of the day was pleasantly frittered away blogging at Woodcat, streaming Netflix, and musing about work and purpose. Cut for the latter.
More and more, I realize that a huge motivating factor of this trip has been the sense of purpose. I can't begin to express how utterly addicting it is to feel like what I'm doing matters, to others and myself. I tell people that I don't take this trip as a vacation, but perhaps (if I may be so high-falluting) as a lifestyle, or a more broad definition of 'work'. True, I don't get a salary for living on my bike and zigzaging across the country, but (as you may guess) the trip is rewarding in infinitely more ways than my regular professional gigs – the ones that pay for gas, supplies, and a modicum of comfort. With this arrangement I'll never have a reason to settle down, because that sense of purpose is lacking from my chosen career. Why would I want to saddle myself with rent and property, as long as I'm not too tired to continue? Work is work, I hold no delusions of escaping the rat race.
Except...this week in LA has been the second paying gig that's been a happy combination of my love for riding as a means of connecting with people, and actual monetary compensation. Money, which can be exchanged for goods and services. The hours are long and sitting in traffic in LA in June/July is as bad as it sounds, but I couldn't be happier with my coworkers and my job for the next 5 days. My bizarre mix of skills and the things that give me fulfillment have unexpectedly intersected at a useful point. There it is, Purpose. It exists, however fleeting, beyond my silly road life.
Perhaps when the day comes that I want to stay still and pick out tile for the backsplash in my home, I need to find that intersection again. Experience has made me hesitant to simply mix work and pleasure, but perhaps I should ignore that dichotomous thinking in favor of seeking purpose. I recognize I'm extremely fortunate to be in a position to even begin thinking of pursuing such a thing, and there's a good chance it won't find it again. But I'll keep looking; I haven't bailed on the rats yet. Somehow, the passion I bring to the table matters enough to other people that it can support a living wage. Money, which can be exchanged for a garage to be filled with bikes and scooters.