My Work

My work is to define what my work is. To show and not just tell.

 My work is a little bit of Everything and doing Nothing at all. It is Unique and Mundane. Simple and Complex. Impossible and Possible. Invisible and Impactful. Exhausting and Exhilarating.  

My work is to to be willing to change careers and job titles 100 more times. To not let my job define who I am, but I who define my work. To do what I love and love what I do. To let my soul lead the way.

 My work is investing in people. To listen to people as if every word they say is gold, finding the heart of their stories. To stop working in order to have meaningful connections with strangers that sometimes result in boba, meals, or hugs. To share in order to inspire.

My work is to experience/travel/see/change the world.

 My work is filling up journals with content that will never be published and notebooks that may have a chance. To never let the callous on my right ring finger disappear. To be the one who dubbed myself with titles like, “Writer” and “Memorist” despite being unpublished and allowing only one person to read my memoir.

My work is to scrutinize, test, and question everything.

My work is to heal. Completely and Permanently. To chase down the “Why’s” and then the “How’s.” To work with the best healers that come my way and to become my own healer. To heal every trauma, disease and illness that attempts to prevent me from living.

My work is to bring my Mind, Body, Soul on the same page. Or timeline. To teach my mind kindness and compassion toward my body. To teach my body how to live in alignment, instead of resistance. To teach my soul that not everything we create is for everyone.

My work is to learn a little bit about everything. To be proactive and invest in my education. To learn from people or life.

My work is to share my strengths and develop my weaknesses.  

My work is to have more than 25 hobbies, always collecting more, and be okay with never mastering any of them.

My work is following my body down random streets and alleyways. To notice the paint splattered on the cement and watch the evolution of the man responsible for it. To capture the chalk monsters that pop up at random. To find the love notes, beautiful graffiti, and new hearts painted across the city. To discover new coffee shops, parks, stores and restaurants. To stop in my tracks and soak up the vibrations protruding from someone else’s soul. 

My work is to pay attention when my nieces ask for my husband to be a “Spooky Avocado” or pick up leaves and hold them to their heads to transform into a cat and an apple. Then my work is gift them with an illustration that matches their wonderful imaginations.

My work is to stop to smell/look up/arrange/paint the flowers. To pay attention when my friend said she finds beauty in the decayed ones and then make it my truth.

My work is to rest and receive.

My work is my testament.

Inspired by A. Papatya Bucak’s essay, “An Address to My Fellow Faculty who Have Asked Me to Speak about My Work.”