Calling from a cab

A musical acquaintance of mine just called me out of the blue from his job driving taxi. He had just found out from a fare that I had left my job at Discovery, and he was calling to tell me he admired the decision, having made a similar one some years before.

The timing couldn't have been better. I am worried, as I face the New Year, about how it's all going to work out. I'm excited, too, because I've got a lot of opportunities at the moment, but let's face it, I'll breathe a sigh of relief once some money really starts to flow.

And there's the rub. I'm in better shape, artistically and philosophically, than I've ever been. I've got my priorities right, according to every new age self help book on the shelf. I'm putting family and friends and creativity and all that stuff first, and working for the man a distant last.

I'm renovating my house. I'm booking gigs. I'm developing new skills. I'm building relationships with clients. I'm eating properly and sleeping well. I'm spending time with good people. I'm getting it all together! And I'm getting support from all quarters, which is great.

Still, I can't help wondering... when I get it all together, will I be calling another young artist to tell them they're making the right decision, leaving the straight and narrow path? And pardon me for asking, because it doesn't sound quite right, but.... will I be calling from a cab?

Between the ditches

When I was a pre-teen, I suffered from terrible depression without even realizing what it was. When I was a teenager, I romantically lumped it in with binge drinking and suicidal thoughts and the first glorious bursts of the wild creativity that would ultimately lead me to discover that I was an artist.

In university I swung wildly, but had the flexible schedule that allowed me to sleep in, at least. It wasn't until I built my cabin in Nova Scotia that my inability to deal with depression really caught up. As the circumstances of my manic impulses piled on, they began to tower over me, and ultimately to crush me. The result: a broken marriage, the long highway between my daughter and me, a hesitant and painful fresh start in Toronto, five years without a solo gig...

And all the beauty that I've seen and enjoyed and been given and built since then. My day job at Discovery didn't prevent depression, but it tempered it: I'm too much a victim of the Protestant work ethic to miss work because I feel poorly, and the rhythm of having to get up and shave and smile every day helped me in a lot of ways.

I'm back out on my own now, and who should come along but my old friend the blues... and of course every time you sink below the line, you access every painful moment you ever had and feel like that's all there is.

This time it's different though. I've been as bad a Buddhist practitioner as I was a Christian believer, but one thing that's never left me since I learned it on a ten-day silent mediation retreat back in 1997 is the observing mind. This little tool or trick does wonders: as long as you're maintaining your awareness, you can careen madly all over the map and with a little effort, snap back to the line.

That's what they mean up in Parry Sound, I guess, when they say "keep 'er between the ditches." And I do.

This is my brain off work

Well, I've done it. After five years working in the corporate world, I've taken my parachute and jumped. As I've mentioned elsewhere in this space, I got a fine sendoff from Discovery Channel folks and I'm now officially underemployed.

There have been two main reactions from others: "Hey, man, you're living the dream!" and "Oh, God, how will you make money now?"

After a week of dealing with the transition, I can honestly say those pretty much reflect the poles of my own reaction as well.

On the one hand, I'm getting a lot done, and I'm inspired by that, and I'm excited about the many great things that lie ahead for me. And it truly is a wonderful thing, to feel like my future is once again unwritten. Add to that the amazing support and love I got from my friends and colleagues on making my departure, and it's a great time for me.

On the other hand, I've never been any good at being poor. I don't like it, and it makes me anxious.

Which means the peace of mind that was the ostensible reason behind all this is doubly threatened: (a) I'm working as hard, or harder than I ever was, and (b) if I start to panic about money, I won't take the time I knew all along I really needed.

And there's another factor: (c) when the hell am I going to get a good night's sleep? I'm really concerned now that I don't remember how to STOP GOING OUT AT NIGHT. I need to be a really big help to myself right now, and I keep getting in my own way.

I presume that won't last forever, now that I'm focusing my attention on the issues. I'll keep you posted.