For nearly a week I’ve driven past a loaf of bread lying by the side of the road still wrapped in its original packaging. It’s a busy road and nobody wants to stop the car to get out and deal with it. Every day the loaf looks more flattened and misshapen. The animals can’t gain access to the bread because it’s wrapped too tightly in material designed to degrade sometime in the next century. So there it sits, held back from its original purpose, deteriorating.
As I drove past the loaf today, a story about The Great Resignation was airing on NPR. It seems we can’t find enough willing souls able to return to jobs they do not want or can no longer do. Some have made brave choices led by personal priorities or responsibilities. Others broke through their twist-ties and have been released from their plastic prisons. At least, I hope this for them.
When I taught preschool we began each morning with choice time which was an opportunity for the children to select where and how they would start their work in the classroom. Child-led choice drove social and emotional learning. A few would ease into the soft cushions in the reading area under the weight of missing feelings for Mommy or Daddy. Most set about building and creating right away, organizing blocks or magnetic tiles into wobbly structures. Some children used glue, yarn, markers, staplers, paper tubes, and scissors to express their ideas in tangible ways, not fully satisfied until what was in their minds was formed by their hands. The children’s work was tactile and concrete, open and free, which I would argue is a rewarding feeling for anyone. Adults held conversations with children about what they made and why it was important to them. Listening reflectively and leaning in for the answers is an act of reverence. We held church daily at the art and natural materials table.
A few children painted at the easel, first swirling the brush in circles making heads, then long lines for bodies, personifying the people they loved most. The children held big feelings for their loved ones and painted with broad strokes and vibrant colors. Painting like this felt like relief and growth, proving they could hold thoughts of Mommy and Daddy while apart, which meant Mommy and Daddy could also hold thoughts of them until they were together again. Being separated was not permanent. How comforting.
Children offer honest expressions of who they are, like oracles foretelling what they could become if given the choice and chance. Our authentic way of being is grounded in childhood. The fortunate among us have the freedom to transfer who we are into the work we do. Whether born into the soft cushions or not, most of us circle back to what compels us, to what is personally meaningful, in or outside of work. Why are so many people leaving their jobs en masse? One reason could be they are responding to a calling held within for too long. Sure, they could continue doing what they’ve always been doing, but should they? There’s an immediacy to life now.
What’s the first creative thing you did in lockdown? Did you write a crappy first draft, take risks in the kitchen, paint a spare room or a watercolor, or did you repair something you once gave up on? Did you help someone access technology, give rise to the music within, execute a solution to a long-held problem, open yourself to therapy, or elevate conversations with people? What if some of us were not actually locked down, but recalibrated? What if the pause helped some people return to themselves?
Unfilled vacancies suggest to me the American dream is shifting away from bowing down to accumulation and leaning into cultivating shared experiences and nurturing relationships, both requiring time and focus, all demonstrating agency. I understand the huge staffing deficit in our country is not only about unfulfilled dreams but a result of complex systemic problems revealed in a pandemic, a compromised child care system, and people just too sick or too tired to keep going. Worker shortages are placing an enormous burden on employers, particularly small business owners with narrow margins. We have become a land of voracious and demanding consumers. It has become hard for people to find meaning in serving us. We do not act as though we are grateful.
I’m curious to see how we all tolerate not having what we want right when we want it, which is another experience learned in childhood. Suffering comes from that we which we cannot control. I am grateful that in this stormy time when the old ways of doing and thinking are no longer adequate, I still have the capacity to choose how to respond. We all do.
Copyright (2021) Suzanne Bayer. All Rights Reserved