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So, it was a tough week.

I had a big disappointment. I interviewed for a job so perfect for me that I never even dreamed I could get >thisclose< to it; I was terribly disappointed when I didn’t get it.

I had seen it within minutes of its appearance on one of the job boards I subscribe to. I wrote a detailed, customized cover letter, attached my resume and arts CV, and emailed it. Within two hours, I received a phone call from the person currently holding the job, asking me to come and interview with the eponymous owner.

We set the interview for this past Monday. I prepped over the weekend, trolled the website for insight, watched the documentary, did an image search on Google and found a picture of the person I would be interviewing with standing next to President Obama.

It was a short, but pithy interview, and it went well. I met a friend for lunch afterward, and we dissected the interview as we munched on our bento box lunches. I went home and told Frank that I thought it went well.

I sent a handwritten thank-you note to my interviewer on one of my cards and put one of my stamps on the envelope.

The next day, I received an email saying that, although my experience, skills, and energy were “completely attractive”, the eponymous owner felt more strongly about another candidate that they were going to “try out”. (So, I guess that means I didn’t get it, but might get it in some indeterminate future if the “try out” doesn’t work? )

CKSOkay then. This is the part of this blogpost that the title is really about: what I did with my disappointment.

I went swimming. I put on my swimsuit, got dressed, grabbed my go-bag with my gear, and walked down to the Y to swim. For an hour. In the deep end. Practically doing laps (not yet, but maybe in a few weeks). I found out last week in my beginner’s class that I have a small talent for the backstroke. (Who knew?)

I swam and swam and floated and swam and didn’t think much at all.

Afterwards, in the steam room and then the sauna (my routine is for 10 -15 minutes of each after a swim) I caught up with my brain and said to myself: This is a MUCH better way to deal with your disappointment than eating, watching a sad movie, reading through the missing persons’ boards, or crying on the couch.

My sister Nancy (who called upon all the powers of the Universe on my behalf) sent me an email that said, in part, that she thought I didn’t get this particular job at this particular time because the Universe wants me to keep working on myself.

I agree with her assessment. My experience has been that when things don’t go the way I want or the way I think they should, there usually some larger plan at work. I question the Universe’s tactics in putting this job in front of me and then snatching it away (not unlike Lucy and Charlie Brown’s football); why, of all the jobs in the world, did THIS job come up on THAT job board just as I was looking at it, and why the quick response to me, and the almost immediate  interview and so on and so on and….

But that’s it, isn’t it? I am a person of faith, a person who believes in a Supreme Being who regards Its creations with loving-kindness. My disappointment is a little tiny ripple on an infinite sea; it’s big to me, because I am small in the grand scheme of things.

I swim because I love the feeling of being in the water; the buoyancy, the weightlessness, the pull into the water as I enter the pool, the water trying to pull me back in when it’s time for me to return to land. I love the feeling of being enveloped, supported and cradled by something universal that is bigger than my self.

I was right when I said swimming is a metaphor for life. I know I am on to something here. I am changing the way I see things and the way I do things. As long as I relax into my stroke and keep my head above the water long enough to take that breath, I know that I will be okay.