It’s 5:45 am at the Manchester, NH, Airport. There may be a good time to be at an airport, but 5:45 in the morning is not one of them. If I were in a mood, I might focus on this. Instead, because I’ve got a double espresso and a croissant and an hour to kill until my flight to, eventually, Sedona for the next nine days, I choose to focus on the comforting wisdom of Ajahn Chah: “Everything Arises, Everything Passes Away.”
In eight or so hours I’ll be driving into one of my favorite places in the explored universe. In 10 hours I will have taken a shower and will be walking in the desert, or at least a desert-like space. In three weeks, I’ll be working at a new job, one which will remain unnamed for now—one of my first tasks will be to write the press release announcing my hiring, so I’d be acting as a scab to myself to announce things right now.
Am I excited about this new job? Absolutely. It offers opportunities to work with folks who are where I was 11 years ago—an active alcoholic on the verge of death, although the word “active” doesn’t really fit, because it’s not like I was playing tennis, hiking or even thinking much. Still, “benumbed, unhoused, unemployed, mouthwash-stealing and drinking” alcoholic is a little too on the nose. Relatively active alcoholic, then. I’ve met a handful of my future co-workers and they are all kind, decent folks who seem dedicated to the mission. Hell, my new employer even has a ping-pong table!
(Please excuse a brief digression: I am an absolute fiend about ping pong. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved the combination sport/game/pastime of, in finer circles, “table tennis.” While I’m not a great player by any stretch, I’ve always been good enough to hold a table for 30 or 40 minutes—at least until the big kids get out of school.)
This new job, then, offers a ton of advantages and I couldn’t be happier. Really. Still.
If I weren’t an alcoholic, if I weren’t filled with ego-driven selfishness, if I weren’t a human, for Chrissakes, I might be completely satisfied. Instead, this new job does have one fly in the ointment.
It’s a Windows shop.
While I know a ceasefire has been reached in the silly Mac vs. Windows wars of the aughts decade, I’ve continued to fight, like one of those Japanese soldiers discovered on an island in 1962. I may have been a late convert to Macs, having used Windows machines from 1993 until 2004, but once I bought my first one I haven’t looked back. Now I must.
I must return to the world of virus fear. I must return to the world of security. I must return to the world of kludge. And I will.
I will also sit in the comforting wisdom of Ajahn Chah: “Everything Arises, Everything Passes Away.”
Even Windows PCs.