I work at a donut shop in lower Manhattan. between shifts I earn extra income as a server. a few times a month I’m also a nighttime dishwasher.
I pick up some part-time work at Macy’s Herald Square at Christmastime, and I have stood on 6th and Broadway with an ad board over my neck, handing out leaflets for a photography restoration business.
it’s okay, you can say it: that’s a lot of crappy jobs.
(in case you’re wondering: people with SUDs miss a lot more work days than other people. and a lot of employers have some strong doubts about a reformed addict’s ability to be a productive part of the workforce, so they won’t hire one.)
clearly, not part of some plan I’ve created for an abundant life. seriously, my master plan has more X’s than a drunk pirate’s treasure map.
but maybe having a map, a plan, or, you know, a purpose in life, isn’t about any one thing. it can’t be about the job you do. how can it be? that’s just one dot on the map. you get there, stay a while, and move on.
I don’t believe having a purpose means being certain about anything, either. the opposite. attaching your life and the steps you take to expectation only leads you to places you’ve already gone before. that’s not purpose. that’s predictable.
could purpose really be about the things we’ll get around to doing someday? hmm. I mean, if you’re going to circle Someday on the calendar and really know where you will be or what you’ll be doing then, you know, Someday, then that would be something. but not purpose.
for me the answer lies in choosing to live life purposefully: each day treating the interconnected and fragmented parts of my life – the crappy jobs I do, the songs I make, attending group, walking to the corner bodega, riding mass transit with strangers – like they all matter, and sprinkling each thing with meaning.
there’s a lady who works at the bodega where I go shopping with my mom. everyone in the neighborhood knows her and she greets everyone who comes in warmly like she knows them. you feel she does, like really does. I kind of get the feeling from her that she’s like that all the time and it doesn’t matter whether it’s work, or in the subway train, or at church, or walking her dog. it’s just who she is and chooses to be. she’s got this little life, like I do, and she fills it big with moments she has given simple yet great meaning.
when my shifts are over and I finally make it home, I take a seat on the floor of my room, press record on the iphone, and attempt to shape what I’ve picked up throughout the day about others, my neighborhood, and my place in it, into something I hope will hit someone different, and might help them even just a little. the songs might even outlive me, but I don’t think about that. I think about everyone I bumped into today and everything I did, and hope tomorrow, too, will be a day that I fill with wonder and give meaning.
p.s. the other day at the donut shop I caught a dude licking the chocolate off a half-eaten Boston cream someone else had left on the counter. presumably for the biological warfare vibes. man, I love my job.
cookie nieves 
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