A Moment of Clarity?

Today was the last day of the Wednesday farmer's market. The Saturday market, which is the main event, continues through the end of October. I got off the bus just after dark and walked through for the last time until next summer. The air was crisp and the market stands were lit with white Christmas lights. A cold front is bringing snow tonight, and the air always has a certain feel right before a storm pushes through. It's surreal to see the market under the glow of lights. Only the last couple of Wednesdays of the season is it dark before the market shuts down. There wasn't much of a crowd, just a few people milling around. It was quiet and sleepy, and the farmers were just starting to pack up. It kinda felt like the very end of a really big party. I talked to a few friends, and wished my beekeeping, honey bottling, candle making friends goodbye until next year. They were down to their last case of honey and wouldn't be back until next year's honey crop comes in late summer.

I don't know what doctors call it when a normally crazy person has a good day and isn't crazy for a short period of time. I'm in the midst of one now I think. I have them from time to time. I'll wake up in the morning, have breakfast and a shower just like any other day. I'll put on my boots and hat and listen to Michael Martin Murphy on my iPod on the bus to work. But what's different is that I won't be longing to be elsewhere. I won't be thinking of all the reasons why I think I'd be happier doing something else. I'll just think about how good I have it and how grateful I am for it. I might actually spend some time thinking about work stuff in a positive, constructive way. I'll think, "This isn't so bad, really. In fact it's kinda fun. Why would you even entertain the thought of giving up safe, clean, high-paying work, a flexible work schedule and awesome benefits to go pound iron onto horse feet? Are you mad?"

Quite possibly, yes.

Yesterday at my actual job I made a volumetric rendering of the temperature below the surface of the conterminous United States. It's basically a detailed 3D model showing how temperature changes as you go deeper below the crust. You can see very clearly the vast stretches in the east where the crust is deep and cool, and the big bubbles of heat lying just below the surface in the west. I also included existing hydrothermal wells to see how they line up with the modeled temperature data. It's sort of like having x-ray vision and getting to see the temperature inside the earth and the geothermal wells that have been dug to tap that heat. It's really cool and co-workers are impressed. How can you not feel good about that?

Sometimes I see the youthful faces of college students and it's like a slap in the face. Dang, I thought I looked like that, but the mirror doesn't reflect that smooth tight complexion I always took for granted. As mom would say, I'm not a spring chicken anymore. Of course I'm not old either. I'm just a thirty-something, that awkward middle ground between youthfulness and old age. In a sense it's like a less intense but more drawn-out version of the teenage years: not quite young, but not quite not. Is trying to change careers - especially to a physically demanding, unstable one - really what you aught to be doing right now? Do you really want to grow old living far away from town, and therefore out of reach of easy food and medical care? Or are you just taking the easy way out here? Are you one of those people who, in the end, would rather just shop at Whole Foods and be fashionably green living in your perfect little city? That is, after all, exactly what I have right now. I could "throw in the towel" as they say and live it up - just forget about the cabin fantasy and farriery and enjoy the life I have. Why start trying to learn a new career when I could focus on honing the one I have? So it's not perfect. Do you think any other career would be without its drawbacks? There is always a price. Or maybe I'm one of those Americans I always complain about - those who are never satisfied and always looking for the bigger better deal. Maybe my bigger better deal just takes the form of something other than money or house size. Maybe what I have isn't good enough for me. I'm not happy enough having a comfortable, stable life that is far better than any other time of my life. Maybe I'm being a crybaby, a spoiled brat - like a millionaire who throws tantrums because he's not a billionaire, when most people are just trying to make ends meet. I suppose these are normal things to consider.

I just don't know the answers.

I took the day off tomorrow. I'm going to spend it shoeing horses.

"Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do is inconsolable."

--Sydney Harris

We'll see.