A note to my readers: this blog is a direct continuation of contemplations from the 2015 Retreat: It’s multiple choice, but I always chose A (i.e.The Problem). If you have not already done so, head back and read that entry before you proceed further.

Background Thoughts: For those of you who may be new to this blog, we are going to skip ahead to a conclusion easily born-out by 100 prior posts (about health, relationships, beauty, fear, etc) — my life, my motives, my actions, my desires, often come down to my deep desire for security and safety,  So, a good preliminary question for a contemplation about jobs, money, security and preserving is: Why oh why do I assume money will keep me safe? Why don’t I assume more time with my beloved, doing things I enjoy, living a laid back life will keep me safe? And why do I feel like a job has to be the biggest job, the most lucrative, to be a path to further jobs and further security and further $. And, even if I have money, a job, a partner or safety in this instant, is it something I can really preserve long-term? What about the Sukatam Lok I so diligently contemplated? In my notes, I referred to these questions as “background thoughts”, to keep in mind as I moved through the ‘meat of my contemplation’.

The Contemplation: When have I tried to preserve, has it worked and what is the cost?

• My Fancy Porsche – Damn I love(d) that car. Sort of. It was also a pain in the ass. I worried about dents, theft, parking near grocery carts. Back when I had a Toyota, I never worried about those things. But the Porsche I had to preserve. Because it was mine. I wanted to be a certain Alana, with a shiny, perfect, fancy car. Some of the time. But, not always, not when I needed gas in a shady hood at night and that Porsche made me feel like a magnet for being robbed. Not when I wanted to avoid jealousy from my coworkers or my boss thinking I didn’t need raises because I was already financially fine. But still, I worked so hard to care for that car.

The funny thing is, back when I had a Toyota, I never wanted a Porsche. Once I had the Porsche, I felt like I couldn’t go back to just a Toyota. Having more made me more vulnerable. More likely to lose something. It was less safe and made preserving all the more difficult…

• I had a little hippy shirt I had found in a thrift store back in college, It was so so so me and I loved it so so so much. But it was already old when I got it, thread bare. I was so selective about the times I chose to wear it, knowing with each trip out of my closet it came closer to its final rip, tear or hole. I would be so careful to avoid stains, sweat. I would sew it each time it ripped. I worried so much about that shirt and long before it died, it fell out of fashion, was no longer so ‘me’. I grew-up, grew-out of hippy style and all that worry, effort to preserve, didn’t even mater because I didn’t want the damn shirt in the end anyway.

• I came to a Kulti (a hut) in the forest that seemed so worn-out. It made me sad. Why had no one tried to preserve it, repaint it, rehammer lost nails, fix the broken gate? My instinct is to overcome the nature, forest, trees trying to take over. To hold back time and decay. The Kulti made me think of myself, my body. My once beautiful skin fading like the paint, my joints creaky like the gate, my body sagging into disrepair. I do try to fight, to preserve. There is botox, creams, makeup, threading, spanx, corset training (I quit that pretty fast as I couldn’t breathe), 100s of hours at the gym, starvation diets. And really does it work? Kind of, a little, enough I keep trying. But do I really still look 20? 30? Can I, ever? The cellulite won’t go away even after a week of starvation, the sagging won’t stop even with every lotion and potion. I so want to be a pretty Alana, a thin Alana, an in control Alana. But even my body betrays my desires.

My head was swimming with examples, exhaustion, I didn’t quite know where to keep going so I decided. Nap time. Yup, I laid down in the forest, closed my eyes and said sweet dreams till next time…