Finding Magic in Life Again

I have legitimately had a rough couple of months. A rough year, really.

I was laid off last summer. I've spent months trying to find a way to be of value in a world that seems entirely incapable of recognizing it, no matter how I present it.

Yesterday, it came crashing down for me.

I was exhausted. Soul tired. Heart sick. Despairing. Nearing the end of my strength in a lot of ways.

I can see the consequence chain slowly unfolding in my life, and I seem powerless to stop it. I look at it and wonder, Why? How the hell did I get here? I was doing all the right things. And it all came apart anyway.

There's something in that I'm still unpacking.

But over the last few weeks, something else has been happening too.

I've had conversations with new people who are experiencing many of the same things. People doing their best to stay resilient and hopeful through all of it. We've shared resources and information. Made introductions. Tried to help one another find a way through this mess.

And it's given me hope.

Last night, my downstairs neighbor invited me to dinner. Six months after moving here, I finally took him up on it.

He's laid off too and trying to make it through. He's got two kids, so he's in a little better shape than I am in that regard. He had a friend staying with him too, so I brought some Fireball because why the hell not?

And he made burgers.

We talked. We laughed. We discovered a mutual love of Final Fantasy. I ate two of the best burgers I've ever had in my life after two weeks of chicken.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I felt my entire nervous system exhale at once.

Then I learned he was a professional chef.

And immediately I thought of a local business I visit all the time.

For the last year, the food there has been terrible. I've sent meals back repeatedly. And suddenly I'm sitting there thinking:

Wait a minute.

They need a good cook.

Martin is a damn good cook.

So I mentioned it to him. I had him send me his résumé. I told him to submit it through their website, and I messaged the GM on Facebook.

I don't know if they'll hire him. I can't make them hire him.

But I could put two things together that seemed like they belonged together and give the possibility a little nudge.

At about the same time, I saw a post from a friend of mine on LinkedIn announcing a new collaboration with a business I recognized.

It was one I'd referred to him more than a week earlier.

And my whole heart smiled. I had done it again.

I'd put two people together in the hope that it might help, and it had.

That mattered to me. Because I've spent months trying to influence a hiring system that seems almost completely impervious to anything I do.

God knows I've tried everything I can.

I've applied. Networked. Reworked how I present myself. Built things. Shared my work. Knocked on doors. Asked questions. Tried different doors. Shouted from the mountaintop about what I think people are missing.

And most of the time, nothing happens. 

Do the thing.

Nothing happens.

Do another thing.

Nothing happens.

After long enough, you begin to wonder whether you have any ability to influence the outcome at all.

And then I saw Chuck's post. I had seen two people who might be able to help one another. I connected them. They took it from there. And something good happened. It reminded me that I can still influence something.

Maybe that's part of the magic we've lost.

We've become so transactional. So extractive. So obsessed with measuring what we get in exchange for what we give that we've forgotten the incredible feeling that comes from simply helping another human being because it feels good to help.

The value isn't always obvious. But it's there.

It's there in a delicious burger that lifts a spirit that desperately needs lifting.

It's there in a referral made for no other reason than you think two people might be able to help each other.

It's there in a message that makes someone's day.

No money exchanged. No quid pro quo.

No invisible ledger where two hamburgers equal one job referral and everybody walks away with the accounts reconciled.

Just people helping people because helping is good.

Martin had food. I needed dinner. I had a connection. Martin might need a job. Chuck had skills. Aaron had work.

And when I can finally get some groceries, Martin and his friend and his kids are getting one hell of a pineapple upside-down cake.

The value just keeps moving. Invisibly.