My friend Cindy got me thinking about rat races. We email daily and hers yesterday morning started out this way:Every Friday i think.....WHY do "we" spend so much of our lives doing something we can't stand? Of course i know the answer! TO HAVE A ROOF OVER OUR HEADS, feed our kids (2 & 4 legged!), do the things we ACTUALLY enjoy doing. But think about just how much time we spend at our jobs. 8 hours a day ...........pushing papers (whether paperless offices or not, we're still pushing papers!) It almost seems like made-up work. Instead of gardening, canning, preparing fields, building, things that feed us, house us.
Although she didn't use the phrase "rat race" in her email, she was describing one in the sense of futility that descends over many people when they have to work at an unsatisfying job just to pay the bills.
Everyone has his or her own definition of "rat race." I know someone who has practiced tax law in a medium sized, conservative, big city firm for the last quarter century and has found the job to be absolutely soulless. If you asked him why he has persisted, he would probably mutter something how life is just a big rat race. Cindy works in an insurance office, selling lines of insurance. She does it to make the mortgage payment and buy feed for her horses and keep the truck running, when she'd rather be massaging horses (her side business) and planting a garden.
Dropping out of the rat race is not easy and not always attainable. As Cindy points out, there is food to put on the table (or in the manger, in her case). And let's face it: as appealing as Thoreau's notion of living simply alongside Walden pond may be, almost all of us have utility bills and the mortgage or rent to pay. To drop out of the rat race means to make lifestyle choices that aren't always possible or practical.
I am lucky in that I have part-time work that I find satisfying and meaningful. Because I am an independent contractor and not an employee, I set my own hours and keep my own schedule. (There are some downsides: I make less money than I would if I worked full time and I have no benefits, including medical insurance.)
I am fortunate beyond words that I can sustain a satisfactory lifestyle at a modest income level. I don't put much stock in new cars, eating out, new clothes, or jewelry and makeup. My share of the monthly household expenses is significantly less than mine alone used to be. All the same, money is tight at times.
Broke is broke, but poverty is relative, and while I am sometimes broke, I am not poor.
Nor is my life a rat race. Almost four years ago, while recuperating from the second of two stem cell transplants meant to arrest my bone marrow cancer, I chose to retire my law license. I truly enjoyed practicing, but I was not the same person I was before the cancer, neither physically nor personally. My life irrevocably changed the moment my doctor said "you have cancer." Retiring my license permanently sidelined me from a rat race I had been running for some time. (A fun rat race, but a rat race all the same.)
I've never regretted it.
Despite that decision, my life is still sometimes a mouse race, if not a rat race. When I married Warren, we blended our schedules. With his job at the Symphony, his performances, his parenting schedule, my work, and my community volunteer activities, let alone our home projects, family, and friends, our life sometimes moves at a dizzying pace.
As of late, the pace has picked up and I think I hear footsteps behind me. The late, great Satchel Paige said "don't look back. Something might be gaining on you." I know what I would see if I looked back: a legion of mice pattering after me, trying to beat me to whatever finish line I imagine is out there.
One of the lessons I learned when I first got sick and was forced to stop everything I was doing was to value my personal time as much I valued the time of others. It is a Life Lesson that I have to relearn on an ongoing basis. Sometimes that means taking a giant step backward from whatever I am intent on doing. Sometimes that means letting someone else take over the project. Sometimes that means sitting down and reading a book instead of folding the laundry.
The incomparable Ernie Banks often said "it's a beautiful day for a ballgame. Let's play two!" I don't play baseball, but I get the point.
I am writing this midmorning on a beautiful early summer day. As soon as I hit "publish post," I'm going outside to check on the garden. Later I'll bake an apple pie to take to Margo and Gerald's home tonight as we celebrate the first fire ring of the summer.
The mice can find someone else to race today.
