In my job search, I have found myself more than once getting really really excited after an interview — absolutely positive that I was going to land the job this time — only to have it all come crashing down when the cruel reality hits in the form of a rejection letter. But I still keep doing this, over and over, despite the extreme highs and lows. It has become more than just a psychological ebb and flow, but a physical one. When I'm riding high, I feel invincible, like God's chosen one. I'm giddy and grinning from ear to ear and talking a mile a minute to anyone who will listen. All good things are one the horizon, baby. And when the rug gets yanked out from under me, I feel hopeless, and physically ill....but only until the next door opens and then I do it all over again. One might mistake me for a genuine manic-depressive these days.
And it reminds me of the opening lines from a poem my brother wrote years ago:
We sink so low just for the high
while losing ourselves in the starlit sky
Where wishes streak across the black
to give us all the hope we lack
That faith so hidden, hard to find....
(read the rest, here)
And then a couple days ago I stumbled upon Leona Naess' song that I now have featured here, Swing Gently. It adds a comforting rockabye feeling to the sinking and rising — which reminds me that this is all just part of the cycle of life and how things are supposed to work, which in my sensibilities makes the whole process a sacred one. Keeping that in mind makes it a bit easier to surrender, and to have faith: that everything will work out in the end, because it always does. Everything is always exactly how it's supposed to be. Letting go of my need to control things comes as a huge relief. So I just ride the the waves, up and down, sometimes diving deeper, and sometimes racing back to the surface.
A friend brought up an upcoming Adrienne Rich lecture and T pointed me back to the poem that made me cry when she introduced me to it last year, so I picked it up again today and reread it, and cried again.
It's called Diving into the Wreck, and although it is deeply personal, it also embodies the experiences of all women who confront not only personal demons, but our patriarchal culture as a whole. This poem reminds me that the lows, the diving, only seems like a time of despair if we neglect to use it for what it is meant for: a time of confrontation and healing.
As of today, I'm riding high again with another hot job prospect on the horizon. But if it doesn't work out, I know that everything will be ok eventually, because it always is.