A Radical Shift

Certainly there are seminal moments in our lives, not necessarily cathartic. The don't involve the release of emotion, a cleansing, they are more creative, a life explosion, they offer freedom in some sense. And I find myself there. Now. The 27th of June, I called Atlanta Legal Aid and accepted a position as staff attorney in their Southside Office. (Actually, I asked if dental was included in the health insurance package, she said "yes", and I said "it's a deal!") About ten hours later, Amy went into labor. And Marian Katherine was born at 12:41 a.m. on Friday morning (the 29th). It is difficult to decide which event is more seminal. (Though in fairness to the truth, the former did have a cathartic effect, though as a practical matter, it felt more midly laxative, i.e., the toxins from two years of big law are working their way out slowly.)

My wife and I make a combined income of some $210,000 a year (not counting my bonus) and $170,000 of that comes from 10 hour days. Legal Aid pays $43,000 (with some fringe benefits) and Amy will relax into full-time momming. Moving will include an unhappy adieu to our Brian and Toms, Ken and Madeleines, Dan and Lauras, Reids, Giannas, Phil, Marcella, and Sopies, and the many others that are making our life rich here. And finally, we'll leave behind our plush little condo and it's pool ringed with bathing bikini-clad beauties and move in with my mother-in-law in Atlanta. (A sentence with emotive impact not needing embellishment, if there ever was one.)

But the move means freedom from a present that plagues me and that has always felt unnatural. It's a radical shift. And if I'm lucky, a return to self-satisfaction, rewarding exploitation of personal talents, a rough and ready sensibility, and the humble righteousness that can come with being contrary, kicking bad habits, mild martyring, and being a bit of a cowboy in your field.

And I'd like to think that it is a mildly heroic act--in the Joseph Campbell sense--that you sacrifice yourself for someone, or something. And I mention this not to feel justified, or particularly righteous, though such a feeling is at times deserved and more virtuous that false humility or even that self-immolating humility that we can impose on ourselves, the kind that we wear to protect others from our threatened arrogance, but that ends up burning us and sometimes hurting those that would like to, or even need to, respect and honor us.

Describing it as heroic does help with perspective. It's not a plea for attention, for accolades, but a reminder to structure my life in a certain way, with two goals in mind. First, to maintain a connection with something deeper than a cotidian desire to have more, to horde, to be comfortable; instead, to dig my nails in deep enough to let a little of the transcendant slip out. By this, I mean those moments where you have wonderful affirming perspective, when existence (and not fashion, fad, or some other form of pain) is the basic value, the basic pole from which your relative values emerge. Second, to slow time down. Speed and change in position may slow clock-time with respect to the stationary object you leave behind, but diversity of experience slows down the perception of time. Thus, coming back down a new trail is always faster than finding your way up it the first time. Searching and anticipation slow life down as does the unexpected.

So, by structuring my life according to the classic hero myth - by seeking out adventure and personal challenge and transformation, time will slow down. And by focussing on right reasons and right goals/destinations, then I hook into that transcendant perspective that I mentioned. And I end up with a long life that resonates with my"innermost being and reality, so that [I] actually feel the rapture of being alive."

Enough of this, I have two other reasons for blogging today. First, to do something concrete to begin a reclaiming of my grasp of the absurd (perhaps in part present from a lack of reading good philosophy - more on this later) and Second to write my birth story. It's "my birth story" and not "Amy's birth story" because even though she was the star athelete at the event, and I played a merely supporting role, she birthed my baby, I was in constant physical contact with her (except to eat a Vegan chicken sandwich a one point), and I was more aware of certain risks and sweating different stresses than she. Thus my experience was different from hers. And a blessing that it is, because we have shared the two experiences with one another, to our benefit, and by living my history, she was able to focus exclusively on hers.

But alas, I've stumbled along my stream of consciousness long enough, to save your birth for another next post.

Today's rule: remember that today, July 27th, happened in part on the 13th of August, 2007.