The Earth has completed another orbit around the Sun, and apparently I managed to survive this one as well. As per usual, the close of the year found me at a place I could scarecely have imagined at its beginning.
The most profound characteristic of 2018 was that I finally left university behind. To tell the truth, I half excpected it would never happen. I’d grown so used to its way of life, mostly as a student, but also as an employee. This Temple of Knowledge, where people devote their lives to the Search for Truth. Nothing should appeal to me more. Not to mention the fact that after having spent the better part of two decades essentially in school, the prospect of stepping out into the world outside is daunting, to say the least.
After my employment had come to an end, I pretty much had to take that step, however. It was either that or try my luck at finding a PhD position. But while life as a researcher still appeals to me in theory, there is no longer any denying that in practice it ate my soul. Maybe I had unfortunate circumstances, or maybe I’m just not cut out for academic pursuits.
Whatever the reasons, I failed to shield myself from the stress that university’s obligations entails. And while I, mostly at the cost of my pride, managed to avoid plunging into the deepest recesses of exhaustion, I constantly found myself teetering at its edge; a nervous wreck clinging to whatever strands of sanity left above an abyss of fatigue and self-recrimination.
Some people manage to make a distinction between their self-worth and their professional achievements, I’m sure. Or maybe their achievements are grand enough that their sense of identity don’t suffer much from it. Myself, I had a hard time not identifying myself with my results, regardless of the amount of effort behind them. This is problematic, because regardless of the degree of success, it leads to a deep dissatisfaction. Every result could always be in some way improved, which at best spurs the will to learn more and investigate further. At worst, however, it makes one a slave to the pursuit of an ever-elusive success, which even when achieved rings hollow because of its superficial nature.
I freely admit that maybe it’s just my failure to be smart, dedicated or persistent enough that has made me bitter. Even so, life at the university fed my tendencies to identify myself with my achievements to a destructive degree. In hindsight I believe that’s the essence of the cloud of stress which was constantly hanging over me, eating away at my mental and physical well-being. To this day, the shadows of this stress are still haunting me.
So instead of attempting to immerse myself even deeper in intellectual pursuits, I applied for a bunch of unqualified jobs. Cleaning, gardening, carrying out mail, checkout, anything, really, which didn’t require much brain power. Having hardly any experience of hands-on, real-life work, however, I didn’t even hear back from most places I applied at. Maybe over-qualification was perilous, after all. Why would anyone employ an astrophysicist to mop floors and clean toilets, when someone else surely needed that job more?
I was on the verge of resigning to following in my father’s footsteps and become a teacher, the fate of many a failed academics, when I unexpectedly got a job offer at a mountain lodge I had applied at mostly just for the hell of it. Moving to the far North, to work night-time as a janitor, starting as soon as possible? Dropping everything, including numerous social obligations, to spend a few weeks at one of the most beautiful places on Earth?
I’m not good with impromptu decisions; I like to weigh pros and cons and consider potential consequences for weeks or even longer before committing to things. But there was no time for that now, so after consulting the well of wisdom consisting of my friends I ended up following my heart’s constant yearning for adventure: hell to the yes!
And so a few weeks turned into an entire summer, which turned into an entire winter, which has only just begun. I’ve traded hard studies and a desk job for a mostly mindless, physically active job. A constant stream of obligations and intellectual problem-solving in the name of science for the removal of bread-crumbs and bodily fluids from a hotel. Coming home in the evening with a mind feeling as if squashed by a brick for coming home in the morning with an exhausted body but with peace of mind. The constant gnawing of doubt at my intellectual capacities for a very tangible feeling that I am physically being of service to people. The endless amusements of a city for the quiet grandeur of nature.
The best thing is I don’t have to choose one way of life over the other. I can spend summer and winter in the mountains, indulging in adventures in nature and solitary contemplation. Then spring and autumn in the city, indulging in social adventures and collective creativity. Regardless of what the future will bring, this migratory existence suits me quite perfectly for now.
I remember ten years ago, when I was working in cleaning the summer after high school. I swore to myself that I would get an education, so I wouldn’t have to work with this kind of drudgery ever again. Now I’m working in cleaning, possibly being among the most over-qualified janitors in history. And I love it. To think that it would take a master’s degree in astrophysics to make me appreciate the simple things in life!
It’s funny, the turns life can take. A job application made mostly for fun turned out to re-shape my existence profoundly. So much good has come of it that I’m thinking I should make “just for the hell of it” into a governing principle of life. Who knows where it will take me? Perhaps I’m getting back into university eventually, but I’ve got so much to figure out first. Having started to shrug off the yoke of stress at last, I finally have space for profound contemplation. The key to Life, the Universe and Everything wasn’t to be found in academia, so how about in other people, or the mountains?
“Don’t try to be too clever […]. Surrender yourself directly to life, without circumspection. Don’t worry, it will carry you straight to the shore and put you on your feet. What shore, how should I know? I simply believe that you have a lot of living to do yet.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Crime and Punishment)
Love and life,
Winterdragon
