Peace

“In the darkness before the dawn

In the swirling of the storm

When I’m rolling with the punches and hope is gone

Leave a light, a light on.” (1)

Friday afternoon, I got an e-mail that changed everything. First a bit of context. A while back, I decided to become a self-employed, graphic designer. I got to work and believed in my work, but slow months seemed to be implying that others didn’t believe. Similar to farming, you have some control in working the field but no control of the weather. Will work work? When will it rain? Will it rain? Will it hail? Fear comes to sit at the table with your optimism’s pre-imagined outcomes and their conversation goes on and on, using up all kinds of battery. I can see now … that within that tension, I was trying to answer the question “am I?” Am I able to grow this thing? Am I significant? Am I going to survive?

Self-promotion is hard to do well. We can tell when it’s not being done well, which is way easier to see in others. Promoting your work online can feel like retelling a joke at a loud party because you thought no one heard you the first time.

“Three seconds in the lane.”

(Crickets.)

“We heard you the first time.”

Ideally, you tell yourself, if your work is good, people will come to you. Right. But then again, how will anyone know about your art unless you show them what you’re up to? What if an important Creative Director just missed seeing my post? I better post up again, just in case.

(Crickets.)

Self-employment is hard to do well. After countless hours are spent caring for our work, it’s very hard not to become attached to it. When you deliver on a special idea that you conceived and carried through a creative process, it’s hard to just “let it go.”

“This is part of my body of work. Look … it’s got my eyes.”

Over the years, our concept of self gets tangles up in our work and becomes dependent on how work is working. We end up asking others to validate our self concept, buying into our brand, affirming and reaffirming our identity. “See me the way I need to be seen. See me the way I see myself.” (2)

It’s not that easy bein’ green. (3)

It’s not that easy being CMYK 60 0 80 7

Pantone 7489U, or

RGB 102, 179, 96

Especially when this recipe is dependent on another’s monitor.

“Is this thing on?”

Independent of career, we employ ourselves daily, devoting our time and energy to putting all kinds of things together. In this, our understanding of self can easily get tied up in relentless, “am I” questions that budge in line, demanding answers Now, rather than Later. In the midst of our nervous optimism, self-care gets bumped down our to-do list to make room for work-care, because the bills piling up are real.

Years before hearing the phrase, “Impression Management,” I was familiar with what that stood for. (4) As it turns out, I was participating in something before knowing it had a name. Generally speaking, managing perceptions of those we interact with, is what we do. “When an individual appears before others, he knowingly and unwittingly projects a definition of the situation, of which a conception of himself is an important part.” (5) “This performance will tend to incorporate and exemplify the officially accredited values of the society.” (6) This definition is expressed and maintained “in the face of a multitude of potential disruptions.” (7)

Speaking of disruptions, it was over this period of time that the economy had tanked. It was getting harder and harder to find design work. “Um, I know we gave you that go-ahead, but actually, we’re going to hold off on having you design our company’s marketing materials because we’re not sure if we’re a company anymore.” My hands were ready, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. I remember feeling trapped, not really having clear alternatives of what I could do. Creative agencies were laying designers off left and right, so jumping on a bigger boat wasn’t an option. I tried pulling myself up by my bootstraps, but eventually those ripped off. Day after day, month after month, optimism and fear would go on and on, arguing about the forecast.

It was during this season where I found myself wanting to talk with my grandparents who had passed on. What was it like to plant seeds and not know for sure? What was it like to run your painting business, month after month after month? Did you sit at family dinners, unable to enter in … frozen with fear and the down-to-earth idea, that this year’s investments may or may not make it to the bank?

And then … that e-mail came. One of the big design agencies in town said they have seen my work and needed my help on a multi-month contract. This was by far, the biggest amount of work I had ever seen. This would repair things from slower months past and be a significant part of the self-employment puzzle I’d been trying to establish for years. And just like that, the hardship thus far was worth it. By landing this contract, I could now explain the bigger picture I saw myself in with actual proof. I’m not crazy after all, and it felt amazing.

It was Friday, and I would start the contract in just 3 days. That weekend, I had an actual spring in my step, engaging everything differently from family to chores. “Fun dad.” (8) Existence itself felt lighter. This will work.

Tensions ... resolved.

Attention ... affirmed.

Fatigue ... lifted.

The “am I” questions … answered.

My plan was working and all the hard work had paid off. Someone else was agreeing with and buying into my self-concept.

That Monday morning, I got ready for the big day. With butterflies in my stomach I checked my e-mail one last time before heading downtown, and saw a “reply all” that changed everything. They wrote to say the project fell apart. The contract was off.

It was supposed to rain. It should have rained.

I looked at my open, empty hands, and hit Save As. I got back to work on the only project that seemed interested in taking me on long-term … wondering to myself ... “am I?”

The roller coaster of emotional, financial, and physical ups and downs that self-employment brings is essentially the same pattern found in life itself. Being human means constantly engaging in risky-rewarding relationships. Fields vary, but we all share a common grounding, of not knowing for sure, how things will go. To be human is to say, “I need something to grow here.”

Several months later, that same agency reached out with another big project for me, and this time, it actually happened. The first day was made up of meetings and getting equipment set up in a setting that was strange to me. Being self-taught, I remember thinking, “what are all the things I don’t know, that everyone else here knows; from going to design school, engaging internships and gaining agency experience?

‘Am I’ supposed to be here?”

After a couple days, I started to gain confidence and realized that I was supposed to be there. I had some time to dig into the work; I was engaging in conversations with the team and bringing solutions to the table. I was loving this new experience of being a part of a collective effort, having a creative director speaking into my work, pushing me to try things I wouldn’t have thought to do on my own. We were starting to work really well together and the design was taking shape.

I remember taking a photo out the window, at the Minneapolis skyline to show my family, images with definition, capturing the situation, framing the view from this office I had “arrived” at. Sure, I wanted to assist them in “seeing me the way I wanted to be seen” but I was also a kid again who couldn’t help but say, “look mom!” I wanted my parents to take in that view, as it communicated without words that the ways they invested in me for years were worth it. A picture can paint a thousand words, but it can also just say “thank you.”

Another morning

A new routine

Look

It’s finally raining

Morning rush

Fall behind

Seek and don’t find

Your umbrella

Borrow one

Your better half

Handed down

To your daughter

Out the door

Wipers on

Find a spot and

Run

That afternoon our project manager scheduled a huddle to talk about the work. I remember thinking I can’t believe I’m getting paid for every single one of these meetings. With a bit of embarrassment in their voice, they told us that there had been a miscommunication and that another team had been working on the same exact project, one floor above us. Also, they were going to move forward with the other team’s concept, not ours. And just like that, the giant block of work I was planning on … went away. It was supposed to be several weeks of work, but it’s not going to be what it was supposed to be. There should be more of this. Everything was going so well. It’s over. I gathered my things, and I quietly updated my answer to the question “‘am I’ supposed to be here?”

With umbrella in hand, I watched the elevator doors part before me, as a sinking feeling just kept coming.

I headed to my car, head down; staring down the reality of what just happened … crack by crack.

Whiplash was what it was … hard to assess.

My umbrella was what it was … pretty and pink.

Job ...

Gone.

This …

Just is.

It’s as if this was too absurd to respond to with frustration. I actually don’t think I had enough energy left in me to be mad. Coming from seasons of intense fatigue, I didn’t have anything left for a fight. I guess this drive home is my flight?

The sidewalk just kept coming as I walked across puddles, forming a wake, which I alone showed up for. Just me and an “acutely embarrassing wedge between the official projection and reality.” (9)

I turned the corner to where I had parked my car that morning and realized that too was gone. I saw a sign I had missed earlier in my rush, noting that my payment stopped counting for anything after 4pm when busses needed my spot. My car took flight before I could. My ride home had been towed away. I went to call my wife to share the news and plan a trip to the impound lot. I gathered my thoughts, dialed her number and as I hit “send,” I kid you not … my phone battery died.

These upcoming words will fail to capture what that moment was like. It was arguably one of the most peaceful moments of my life. In the contrast of so many tangible things stripped away, I was left without the cover of what I was supposed to be doing that afternoon.

In

Stillness

An

Awareness

I

Am

A horizon line was crossed and the “am I” questions were nowhere to be found. I was experiencing a different sense of being grounded. I was somehow at peace.

Job …

Gone.

Transportation …

Gone.

Communication …

Gone

And I’m

Still

Here.

Here

I

Am.

A threshold in the midst of my day held a curious symmetry to it, bearing a reflection between “am I” and “I am.” As I stood on that abandoned corner, there was a strong, energizing, comforting sense that this lack of order was not just OK, but that it was somehow saving my life. It’s as if I was being taken up in and sheltered by a space big enough to hold both losing and winning at once. A tangible, invisible current remained when what “should be” the case took off.

This spot was priceless. I should be working, bringing in more than I need. Now I’m right back in that hole that I thought I had climbed out of. I should be up there, finishing up, that role I was playing so well.

As far my network was concerned

Holmberg Design was a one-man-shop that was working. I had put myself out there.

I had articulated a definition with a view, built on 10,000 posts.

As far as my family was concerned

They were still buzzing with gratitude for a view of the skyline

I couldn’t hold onto.

As far as I was concerned

I was no longer being pushed against the ropes

Thinking there’s a still a chance … if I just fight harder.

Here’s a job

Just kidding

No really, here’s a job

Just kidding

I couldn’t survive the double pump-fake.

I was counting on that contract, and now

I was down for the count.

An unforeseen disruption threw through

Breaking me open, leaving me

Speechless, tossing me a line:

I

Am

More

Than

My

Best

Performance.

Entertaining this idea, brought calm to my corner. Up until this hour, I was rolling with the punches. I had something to prove … and peace patiently watched me as I tried; respecting my space while standing near enough, to catch me when I finally fell. Hindsight would fill me in, down the road. This was me … “falling upwards.” (10)

“Just because I’m losing, doesn’t mean I’m lost.” (11)

I obviously didn’t stay in that space. I borrowed a phone, found a ride, and had a very different experience at the impound lot.

“Is this thing on?”

I would go on to find more work. This wasn’t some magical event that made life’s challenges just go away; rather a fundamental shift was taking place in how I understood myself, how I saw my life, and how I might keep at it. The next morning, I had to return to the stress of figuring out what work was going to look like, but something was different. I could tell, at least in part, that the presence of absence was near. Said differently, I sensed that there was more to me … that I hadn’t met yet.

A surrender of sorts that I didn’t fully understand … was working within … overtime. This was not a giving in or giving up, as in, “I’m done trying.” This was a different kind of letting go, that I didn’t sign up for. This theme of release, appeared to be … giving me back my life.

I didn’t bail on my design career that day; I was still really proud of my work … but something else was in the air. I understood, in part, that what was true on that corner was true on a larger scale. The forecast was clear: My portfolio will inevitably fade on me over time, ever so slowly backing away from having my back. I could see my relevant rows of work were indecisive on how long they would remain, and that they would make break for it, the minute some new design trend showed up, looking for a one-year stand.

“Comin’ in hot!”

On that corner, a new thing was springing up, so to speak, seemingly, in a way.

In a way, my composition was being renewed.

A new story line was sprouting as it were, was, is and will be

Potentially.

In a building behind me, some other designer several floors above … who just got word to keep pushing forward their concept … was likely taking a quick break, looking out from their defined situation, staring out a window with a view, at a curious pink circle that hadn’t moved for a dangerously long time.

Two designers were handed

Two very different kinds of day

While unique environments turned on very different things inside them.

Two designers revealed just

Two of the

Too many ways this day could have gone and did.

In a recession of activity

A coffee break was taken

To stare out the window at another designer’s broken links.

Behold

A bold

Arial view of a low-res FPO. (12) (13)

Two designers

More than one angle

Several stories in the air.

In an unplanned stillness, a sustaining silence held me. I was captured by a “peace without answers.” (14)

“This ... just is. I accept this this.”

I was presented with what I hadn’t known to ask for

A depth to me that I could now see

Without my job, car, or phone in the way.

That corner stirred a hunger

Kneading me, while reminding me

What my gut already knew.

I

Need

To

Know

Who

I

Am

Independent

Of

The

Weather