Avocation

Can you recall your younger days? Less money, more time. We couldn't afford that esoteric guitar or bicycle but we found the way to an acceptable substitute. You bought a Schwinn Varsity instead of a Campagnolo-gruppo Unobtainium racycle. Time and money morphed these acquisitions into whatever the magazines are selling and we succumb to upgrade-itis. With musical instruments, they called it Gear Acqusition Syndrome (G.A.S.) and include the addict's excuse of being able to quit anytime. Easier said than done until the money supply is cut off.

The loss of steady income is a perfectly welcome opportunity to reintroduce our youthful ideals of minimalism, green consciousness, and economic freedom from the man. The unconscious state of making money to spend money is awakened and we're suddenly fastidious accountants and stewards of the here and now. The daily mocha and breakfast burrito at the company store which was the affluent personal treat for showing up in the same building every day turns into a regretful waste of savings for a rainy day. It was a matter of survival of a different sort back then, so bygones, right?

Now the time has arrived for unconventional thinking of the ideal kind. Do we choose to despair over the bleak economic indicators and threadbare classifieds? They can be little more than depressing, especially as listings for your field are gobbled up by graduates going to work for peanuts to pay the student loan sharks. Channel those daydreams in the soft time at work. Recall the moments you fantasized about doing what you really enjoy, what you know how to do, what you do in your leisure time, what you read about. Ask yourself if this is possible to pursue. Take the money factor out of the equation for now. Try to forget the mortgage and pressing bills for just a moment. Ask yourself if it's at all possible to make even twenty dollars a day doing this. Be unrealistic. Is there somewhere you can volunteer for a month to bring you up to speed as a go-to person someone will seek out. I'm not talking about something you haven't a clue, a total fantasy with no practical experience. I'm suggesting a passion you already have, that you never imagined anyone would pay you to do, that has held your interest for years. Mine's bikes and guitars, the adolescent's mainstays. I never grew out of either one, continually justifying each as an organic miracle of technology and craftsmanship. They are my sure thing, my friends and children, my conversation guarantees. No matter the walk of life, the financial discrepancy, the social distinction, the wind always delivers the scent. Someone invariably will approach and meet on this common ground. If it's not them, it's me. The guy's wife will roll her eyes and say it's always about the bike to whomever i'm with. The conversation runs rampant through the opened window and we both know there will be backpressure if left running too long. The greatest luxury is having all the time in the world and circumstance to let it run its course and full length. That's rare because of our heightened consciousness of the tape measure of remaining days, but it should be attempted. Your head will hit the pillow that night with a contented sigh. These are good days.