I recently reread The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho which is an incredibly inspiring book. It is a tale of a shepherd who follows his heart to his treasure in Egypt and all his journeys and adventures along the way.The basic thing is that when you begin what you are meant to do its easy and thats what the book refers to as beginners luck. As things progress things can get trickier and right before you are about to achieve what you set out to do you will be tested. At this point a lot of people give up, when the going really has gotten tough.
Over the past 10 days I feel I have hit upon a couple of those tests. Hopefully they’re the last ones before I crack through the final bit of the wall and spend the rest of my life swimming around in milk and honey.
One of such tests was a job situation which was for a potential opportunity for more freelance writing work. The first challenge was it was in Burbank, i.e Deepest Darkest Valley, which took me over an hour of panicked trying not to be late driving to get there. The sprawling concrete corporate building surrounded by a parking lot reminiscent of Disneyland masses of cars did not bode well for me and my spirit to be frank. Going inside being greeted by non smiling security people who looked at my ID, photographed me, gave me a barcoded pass with a grainy image of myself on it and sent me on my way through a maze of grey corridors did nothing to alleviate my sinking feeling.
What I thought was going to be a 20 min test turned into a 3 and a half hour marathon of a test which comprised of me having to on the spot learn a new computer software program and write. A couple of hours in and no water had been offered, I was in a felt booth-a serious phobia of mine, one which induces sweating feet and all sorts-and listening to banal office chatter as I feverishly tried to do the best I could with the situation. A couple people who popped their heads around my booth were pale and wan and looked as though they had left their dreams behind many years ago. I kept thinking I was in one of those films where someone breaks from the grey world of corporate life and does something radical or leaps onto a desk and starts singing or screaming or something just to shake the people out of this monotonous world. When I finally finished at 7.30 through the dark parking lot half crazed with blood sugar levels crashing I hurried me myself and the Prius out of dodge.
Still, despite the corporate horrors I woke up in the morning feeling I could have done better and fretting about whether or not I had done enough to be offered some freelance work. It took me a few days to remember that my heart was screaming as I was leaving the building under cover of darkness, not to do this job, that I had not moved to Los Angeles to end up in a felt booth in the Valley. But my head was saying it would be good to have another stream of income if need be. Effectively a safety net.
Last night post bath I thought about my next working week and how much I had to do with my show and then I had a streak of panic about possibly not having much freelance work. Its strange I am so focused on my show but then my head gets involved with what about writing work in the meantime. Suddenly what came into my mind was nothing changes nothing changes. I have to let go of my anxiety about money and trust the road will come up to meet me and that my heart is not leading me up the garden path. So here goes, a whole new way of thinking and a whole new level of faith and trust. I have promised myself that from here on in I will not focus on lack, anxiety over money or whether or not I can keep the wolf from the door. Instead I choose to focus entirely on faith and trusting that the road will come up to meet me, not the hungry wolf. I’m choosing to follow my heart rather than my head. Will keep you posted and will for sure send you a postcard from my hammock in the land of milk and honey from which I can just about see from where I’m standing.Tags: believe, faith, heart, Mhairi Morrison, nothing changes nothing changes, Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist, The bead movement