The Hats I've Worn, or Thoughts on Attachment and Staying True to Oneself

Yesterday I had a chance to revisit a former identity of mine, that of bead merchant.  Yes, I used to peddle beautiful necklaces made from rare beads.  And this morning when I was supposed to be meditating but was in fact reviewing my yesterday, I realized that the life of a merchant did not fulfill me, that I was relieved I had left it behind.  In fact, I never knew how to do it very well.  And so I lost money... and a little confidence.  But no matter, for I wasn't really in the business of owning a gallery in North Beach to make money, was I?  No, that would be silly!
A young merchant came to me to acquire some old treasures, and at the outset I was unsettled by this.  I didn't think I had much to offer, and my worktable piled with every kind of bead imaginable in a scattered array was another testament to my disorganized self, that self I'd rather not own up to.  We pawed through necklaces and beads and he found a stash he wished to buy.  Fine.  Then he fixated on one small agate of really fine quality and his eyes lit up.  He wanted this.  And I didn't want to sell it to him.  Why?  Because all of a sudden I realized I'd make something beautiful from it, or perhaps because he wanted it too much and I was willing to resist him (in other words, play the game of wheeler-dealer).  His energy became heightened, as though he had forgotten about the quite lovely pile he was in fact going to go away with.  And he kept offering, giving concessions, upping the ante.  And I continued to hold back.  I even told him a story of sparring with a customer in my store when she insisted that everything, yes everything was for sale - to which I said, "Absolutely not.  There are limits."
So in my not very meditative state this morning I wondered what this was all about....  First thing that comes to mind is attachment, and the second thing is a fierce reaction to being manipulated.  I have grown pretty independent of late, and every once in a while I actually can appreciate myself for what I have done on my own.  I don't want to lose myself in order to make someone else satisfied, or to calm the waters.    I am also aware of becoming attached to beautiful things.  Beads are just part of this...  I have old beads sitting about in bowls that go back thousands of years, and I love that I can go to the desk and just look at them, touch them, think about where they came from.  I haven't made a necklace in a long time, and am feeling closer to actually sitting down and doing it ... but, you see, I'm also trying to write this book, and that takes a lot of my creative juice.
Most likely I am more "attached" to my book project than almost anything else these days, except maybe a desire to become physically stronger so I can walk 100 miles in Africa next summer.
But, yes, attachment is alive and well in my world.  My cats, my Buddhas, my piano, my colored yarns, a few paintings, my books, good food and very good wine, and the list goes on.  I become attached to people I work with at hospice, and people who are dying right in front of me.  I am attached to my children and of course my grandchildren to whom I play Auntie Mame. I can feel this attachment all the time: the tugging in the heart, that leaning in.
I used to be attached to the idea of being a teacher, but now that is gone.  Like the warm weather, perhaps, or last night's brussels sprouts.  Teaching was another of the "hats" that I wore, a beautiful one, just before I took that plunge into working with my hands to make jewelry.  I figured it was time to switch from exerting the intellect to testing my intuitive creative powers.  It was a lovely detour,  even the three years as a shop keeper (I would have preferred to call myself "gallery owner"), and when the lease was up and I realized that I needed to pull out of doing business because I was no good at it, it was a big relief.  I can still play with my beads, but I don't have to convince anyone to buy them!  The playing was what was important in the first place.  And when I told the young man last night that the money in the end wasn't all that important to me, I had to repeat it several times so he could begin to understand.  I wasn't speaking his language, but that didn't matter; I knew what I had to do.  I wish him well in his dance of bargaining and dealing, and feel thankful that our high energy encounter (they all seem to be with dealers) brought me back to my lovely bead world where I can return to dabble anytime I want.  That is, when I get all my editing done, and am 100% happy with my manuscript!

No .... I will play with beads, and I will play music on my grandmother's piano, because my little hands need to move in this way over the keyboard, and my heart needs to soar with the excitement of creating jewelry or music.  This will soothe my inner critic, I think, and help me keep believing in my book which is a story of my life.