"What We Got Here Is a Failure at Unemployment"

I woke up this morning and discovered 22 weeks of salary directly deposited into my bank account (16 weeks severance and 6 weeks unused vacation). The unemployment fairy had obviously visited last night.

Concerning my still-busy schedule, predominantly at the very firm that recently let me go, Greensmile (aka the Data Doctor of Operation Democracy), noted "You are a failure at unemployment in that you have failed to actually be unemployed." Humorous point, but it has me wondering if my enthusiasm for wrapping up projects and putting my clients first has under it the psychological motive of denial of my current situation. It's been over two weeks since the axe fell, and i have yet to clean out my office, and I've only told a very small handful of people about my situation (excluding, of course, the entire world through this blog). To all outward appearances, I'm still gainfully employed as before, showing up at the same office, producing project reports, sending email, and so on and so forth, while still drawing a paycheck (on an hourly basis, albeit at 1.5 times my old salary). It could be that the contrarian in me is relishing showing management that they're wrong about my contribution to their operation, or it could also be a form of denial concerning my termination. But whatever, I'm too busy to worry about that now.

Jon Mayo, who synchronistically has found himself in the same situation as I, wonders, "Isn't Zen exactly about kicking away habits and concepts that keep us away from the true perception or reality and, in the end, of ourselves? What better for that than being kicked from a job?" Interesting thought, and as I had noted earlier, for years my profession was a large part of my sense of self identity, just as a marriage is a large part of a husband's or wife's sense, and a child is a large part of a parent's identity. Divorce or the loss of a child is so traumatic partly because it also challenges one's concept of the ego-self. The loss of my job takes me back at the essential question of who or what I actually am, when all role models, societal functions, et cetera are stripped away (pop quiz: tell me who you are without mentioning others). Zen does not offer an alternative role ("Roles give you cramps," as the Au Pairs once sang), but is a direct pointing to the emptiness of existence, which is not as bleak as the existential associations you're probably putting on that phrase right this minute.

I am not Melissa's father, although I may or may not have fathered Melissa some 19 or 20 or so years ago (an interesting post for some future date). I am not my former company's employee, especially now that I've been let go, nor am I their ex-employee. (Not to confuse the issue, but I am also not not their ex-employee, nor am I not not possibly Melissa's father.)

Anyway, today I took it easy. I got up late, and after noticing the deposit in my bank account, decided not to go to the office. I replied, remotely, to a few emails and talked with a prospective client about a new project I hope to bring to my next firm, whomever that might be (I have interviews next week). I watched some cable movies on daytime t.v. I still have a few things that need to be done in the office, but they can easily wait until Monday. Meanwhile, there's no reason I can't just sit back and be myself, or just sit (shikantaza) and be.