Yesterday I told my supervisor, the Executive Director of the nonprofit I work for, that I am resigning effective one month from now. Sad time, the half hour or so we were together. And afterwards, too. But if she is a square hole in the fabric of the organization, I am a round peg. And it's just not working. Never will. Round pegs don't fit into square holes unless they whittle themselves down so much that they can be crammed in along the sides. Unless they stop being who they are.
It's almost like the story/movie/play "The Point," written by American songwriter and musician Harry Nilsson about a boy named Oblio, the only round-headed person in The Pointed Village. Except that are other Oblios at the place where I work. I'm not sure how they fit in, but I can't. Don't. Won't.
I met some nice people there along the way. Made some friends. Maybe helped some folks, too. And in The End, that's what matters I guess.
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About Me
- Mark Gorman
- I was born in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, along the banks of the Susquehanna River, in the valley made up by Bald Eagle Mountain to the south, and gentle hills and valleys to the north. That place that sheltered me, gave me food and friends, and both physical and spiritual nourishment for 18 years. That is the space where I was physically and emotionally formed. Ever since growing up there . . . because of growing up there . . . I have been inexorably linked to nature . . . to the earth and to all life.