Seeing God in Signposts

I run a Twitter account for Patti Smith quotes, @ThePattiSmith. I started it back in August just after I left New York and moved to New Orleans because I searched for one and it didn't exist. Besides spreading Patti's wisdom to my now more than 1,500 followers, it also obligates me to be constantly reading Patti Smith interviews, old and new. I've seen her voice develop in interviews from the mid and late 70s, right after Horses was released and its influence began to spread, all the way up to 2011, when she's a National Book Award winner for her memoir Just Kids — a book that changed my life profoundly. Patti, her music, and her written work was one of those things that came along at just the right time and was just what I needed. I'm writing this from New Orleans today in large part because of her influence. I often refer to her as the Patron Saint of Young Artists, and she is.

While preparing today's Patti tweet, I read a quote from a recent interview that has stuck with me:

"Life is filled with those kinds of signposts. I believe in these things, you know, fate. Of course, fate is like a secret friend that helps push you on into life. I often think of those things. One can think of them for the good, and one can think of them for the mistakes we've made. I try to keep it balanced in my mind that you know that's how we get through life. We have our free will, but a lot of fate and a little bit of luck."

This is my exact outlook on life, fate, the Universe and its odd way of working. About a week from now I'll "celebrate" the one year anniversary of leaving my journalism career in New York. At that time my friends and I were all Patti obsessed, craving the life of art and work she lived in the Chelsea Hotel with Robert Mapplethorpe and what was left of the Andy Warhol gang. We idolized that life and time, even knowing that it will never be like that again, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But we can at least try to capture that spirit in the way we live our daily lives, and in our own budding work.

I recently finished filling a journal I started last April, about a month before I left my magazine job. Reading back, I was so unhappy at that time. I wished desperately for no responsibilities, for no worry of money, to just have time to think and meet people and listen and read and write and just... be. An opportunity presented itself and now, nine months into New Orleans, I've had exactly that. But it's coming to an end, and at an appropriate time. As of April 28, I'm on my own again. I've found a new job, a place to live that I'll have to pay for, and I have to be a real adult again. April 28 will be the one year anniversary of my last day at Fast Company.

The Universe is funny like that. I often put my thoughts and hopes out and see if anything happens. Sometimes it's almost instant, sometimes it takes a long while, but most of the time I do get some kind of response. I can now see why things that didn't work out didn't, and why things that did work out did. Not that I don't have questions — this last year of my life has been one massive question mark, and continues to be. But things seem to be shaping up and the future/present is looking good.

This whole month I've struggled with making a decision: to move back to New York or to stay here in New Orleans. After weeks of thinking, writing, talking to friends, I finally made my choice: stay here. It feels good to make that commitment to myself, to have something solid. I've been so confused, but for the sake of my own sanity I finally had to pick one, and staying seemed like the right thing to do. I just didn't feel I was finished with New Orleans yet.

But my life here will be somewhat less traditional that the life I pictured for myself three years ago when I graduated college. I was talking about corporate-type jobs with my mom a few days ago and she said something that I've known about myself but needed to be reminded of: "You've always been more of a free spirit than that." It's true. I value structure but can't foresee myself sitting at a desk day in and day out for the rest of my life. I did that for two years and look where it got me. As it always has been, my life will be a series of adventures and experience not defined by the cultural norms. I'm not failing because I didn't choose to climb the traditional corporate ladder, no matter what high school counselors and undergrad advisers have told me. People may not understand my choice to work at a locally owned vintage clothing shop and have an open availability for projects that come along, and sometimes I may feel somewhat embarrassed that I don't have a traditional job three years out of school. But what is traditional, and why do I feel I need it? Finding myself and my own core is so much more important to me. And, as my mom pointed out, it always has been.

The choice to stay in New Orleans and pursue my own non-traditional "career path" has been so, so difficult, and I've labored hours, days, weeks over it. But I'm forging my own path now, looking for indicators of my own direction, and, as Patti so eloquently alluded, trying to see God in signposts.