My husband thinks most personality tests are a joke. Which to me is ironic because the man asks me to basically quote sources whenever I state something definitive. As a lover of science and facts, but also a true literalist, maybe he can’t appreciate how someone can be ‘like’ something in degrees but not in totality. Or he just thinks its akin to a horoscope or Chinese cookie where you find yourself in it no matter what. Either way, (despite my husband’s eyerolling) the Enneagram god’s would either classify me as a “7” with an 8 wing or an “8” with a 7 wing. In otherwords, I’m a little bit MUCH and I’ve always sought for new adventure and new experiences.
Perhaps it is my genetic wiring- my desire to see the world like my Aunt Miriam who enjoyed traveling solo to Southeast Asia & my grandma Katie always talking to strangers with a desire to see new perspectives (unlike my other side of my family who found at times found it difficult to converse with their own kin and a trip ‘into town’ felt like ‘too much’). I’m a rainbow chaser and it’s hard not to dream of that next pot of gold of adventure waiting on the end of a journey.
Fortunately (and unfortunately), I’ve been to the end of enough rainbows to find a mud patch rather than a hidden treasure. I’ve traveled to both coasts solo and lived there several years. I’ve been to other countries, traveled across the US by train, I’ve hiked and climbed, and sea kayaked and sought a new experience whenever I could find it. And I know that for most of them, it’s the journey that makes the end worth it and not the other way around. Rarely is the ‘treasure’ at the end truly satisfying but rather it’s the messy middle. Often the people you are with that make an adventure worth it or deeply meaningful. Sometimes the best company is yourself on the journey. Other times your solo trip feels like a lonely island or a protective bubble keeping you from entering in to the ‘good life’.
I just got to watch the Wizard of OZ live last month. Man those tunes are in my bones. I’ve been a cast member, a pit member, and an audience member. I’ve read the kids book, watched the movie and even have a music box that plays ‘Somewhere, Over the Rainbow.’ I get that deep down feeling, that longing that somewhere things gotta be better, they’ve got to be brighter, there’s gotta be some place to live where your identity can shimmer like a raindrop on a flower pedal. Sometimes we look for the rainbow of relationships (partners, prodigy, parental acceptance) sometimes the love of our culture’s coveted accolades (career, cash, cred). But often we’re living under the rainbow- with our relationships sometimes on the rocks, our culture ignoring our capabilities and we’re left to find our treasure in something else.
I didn’t get a job I wanted (or thought I wanted) last month. A job that fit my capabilities and resume to a ‘t’. A job that could have fit like a hand to glove. And I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been morning that rainbow that led to a mud pie. I’ve grieved the loss of a career and paycheck that grants the nodding chins and smiling eyes of cultural worth. But alas. Despite this. And there have been tears. Rainbows only come after a rain you know. I knew immediately in my gut, that I’m still me. I’m still talented. I’m still worthy. I’m still capable. I’m OK. And it’s living here in between the bows, where we have to learn again and again what defines us isn’t what we think. Sometimes a rainbow was meant for someone else and sometimes we’re left to celebrate their moment to shine.
