I did something yesterday I haven’t done in a long time: I relaxed and did nothing.
Around ten o’clock yesterday morning I laid in the sun for half an hour to produce melanin and vitamin D. Several of my cats joined me but the sun was too hot, so they settled in the shade. It was a very hot day. And it was a lazy day.
After sunning I laid my towel on the grass in the shade and just relaxed. No book. No music. No input but the song of birds, the light rustle of the leaves in the breeze, the buzzing and humming of insects, the intermittent sound of my neighbor’s table saw and the occasional traveler in car and bike.
Toby sprawled out next to me. Aggie groomed herself for an hour beside me, slurping and snorting. Chester climbed the apple tree and then collapsed in the grass. The orange kittens played around and on my body and chased insects and waving weeds. Puddy alternated between resting and tackling a kitten who cried piteously and had to be rescued.
I relaxed for three hours. I and my tribe were at peace (except for the kitten with that big brute Puddy holding him down). I gave little thought to money. I entertained no fear and only a little worry. I just enjoyed the warmth of the air and the companionship of my feline friends.
Overwork of the Self-employed
I’ve been self-employed since 1993, and I’ve worked most weekends. I’ve been selling books online since 2000, and I became obsessive and imbalanced in that work. It consumed all my time and thoughts. How could I think of laying in the grass for three hours when I had so much work to do?
This business and its demise has been the greatest learning experience of my life. It reminds me of a story I read where an employee lost his company a million dollars. When called into his boss’s office he asked, “I suppose you’re going to fire me” to which the boss replied, “Fire you? I just paid a million to train you!”
Perhaps my changed outlook is just a result of mid-life, of hormonal changes. But I imagine that if my business had not begun to fail, that I would still be working weekends, still chasing the elusive dollar to build a life I would at some time in the future enjoy. Always in the future. Work’s gotta get done now. No time for life.
Often the difference between a successful person and a failure is not one has better abilities or ideas, but the courage that one has to bet on one’s ideas, to take a calculated risk – and to act. –Andre Malraux
I really dislike using the word “fail.” It implies wrongdoing or incompetence and neglects the growth and learning potential inherent in failure. It suggests that success is preferable, when success is just another avenue of growth and learning. Are we humans here to amass riches and entertain ourselves? Or are we here to learn and grow and evolve? Why do we allow failure to dictate our value or contribution?
Actually, my business never failed. It just didn’t generate the cashflow needed in a failing economy to maintain my poor choices. It was my home buying expertise that was lacking. My common sense and judgment are what failed. When I knew it was time to move on to something else, I let fear dictate my inaction.
I’ve succeeded at most things I’ve tried. This is the first time I’ve really “failed.” But did I fail? I don’t think so. I successfully paid my way doing something I loved for a season, then bought into the bigger-is-better model and tried to build my business beyond my interest. I took a risk on something and it didn’t work out. Would I have been better off not risking? Wouldn’t you rather risk new things and possibly fail than just plod along?
Life is risk. Sometimes risk is rewarded with success; sometimes not. But don’t let the failure or success of an endeavor determine your worth or discourage you from risking again. Just learn from it and grow. And risk again.
“Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.” –Katherine Mansfield
I leave you with a great song from one of my favorite Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, the film Swing Time (1936) with lyrics by Dorothy Fields and music by Jerome Kern.
Pick Yourself Up
[He]
Please teacher, teach me something,
Nice teacher, teach me something.
I’m as awkward as a camel, that’s not the worst,
My two feet haven’t met yet,
But I’ll be teacher’s pet yet,
‘Cause I’m gonna learn to dance or burst.[She]
Nothing’s impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up,
Dust myself off,
Start All over again.Don’t lose your confidence if you slip,
Be grateful for a pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.Work like a soul inspired,
Till the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But you’ll be a man, my son!Will you remember the famous men,
Who had to fall to rise again?
So take a deep breath,
Pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.[He]
I’ll get some self assurance
If your endurance is great.
I’ll learn by easy stages
If you’re courageous and wait.
To feel the strength I want to,
I must hang on to your hand,
Maybe by the time I’m fifty
I’ll get up and do a nifty.[Both]
Nothing’s impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up,
Dust myself off,
Start all over again.Don’t lose your confidence if you slip,
Be grateful for a pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.Work like a soul inspired,
Till the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But you’ll be a man, my son!Will you remember the famous men,
Who had to fall to rise again?
So take a deep breath,
Pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.
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Sondheim has a song for all occasions — this one is less classy than yours, but it sure says it for me! YOU are still here, too, Joanne!
Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all
And, my dear, I’m still here
Plush velvet sometimes
Sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I’m here
I’ve stuffed the dailies in my shoes
Strummed ukuleles, sung the blues
Seen all my dreams disappear but I’m here.
I’ve slept in shanties,
guest of the W.P.A., but I’m here
Danced in my scanties
Three bucks a night was the pay, but I’m here
I’ve stood on bread lines with the best
Watched while the headlines did the rest
In the depression was I depressed?
Nowhere near,
I met a big financier and I’m here
I’ve been through Gandhi, Windsor and Wally’s affair,
and I’m here
Amos ‘n’ Andy, Mah-jongg and platinum hair,
and I’m here
I got through Abie’s, Irish Rose, Five Dionne babies, Major Bowes Had heebie-jeebies for Beebe’s, Bathysphere
I got through Shirley Temple,
and I’m here
I’ve gotten through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover
Gee, that was fun and a half
When you’ve been through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover
Anything else is a laugh
I’ve been through Reno, I’ve been through Beverly Hills,
and I’m here.
Reefers and vino, rest cures, religion and pills,
and I’m here
Been called a ‘Pinko’, commie tool,
got through it stinko by my pool
I should’ve gone to an acting school, that seems clear
Still someone said, “She’s sincere”, so I’m here
Black sable one day, next day it goes into hock,
but I’m here
Top billing Monday, Tuesday, you’re touring in stock,
but I’m here
First you’re another sloe-eyed vamp
Then someone’s mother,
then you’re camp
Then you career from career to career
I’m almost through my memoirs,
and I’m here
I’ve gotten through, “Hey, lady, aren’t you whoozis?
Wow, what a looker you were”
Or better yet, “Sorry, I thought you were whoozis
Whatever happened to her?”
Good times and bum times, I’ve seen ‘em all
And, my dear, I’m still here
Plush velvet sometimes
Sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I’m here
I’ve run the gamut, A to Z
Three cheers and dammit,
C’est la vie
I got through all of last year, and I’m here
Lord knows, at least I was there, and I’m here
Look who’s here, I’m still here