I have a Facebook friend, a decade younger, many of whose posts reflect the angst of self-dissatisfaction in the face of a life which seems objectively lovely. Sometimes I want to respond: There is no “there!”, It never begins to make sense!, and Befriend the disquiet--it doesn’t intend to leave.”
But I bite, or at least nip, my fingers in their urge to reply. Clearly, among the other cosmic callings I am not cosmically called to fulfill is mentoring. Advising the anxious to embrace the pain seems hardly the warm fuzzy that is called for. Even worse would be “You think you’re insufficiently fulfilled now? Wait until you get a load of aging!”
Despite my easy access to these un-choice pieces of advice, I am not marching forward into the swards of middle age with any major chips on my shoulder, monkeys on my back, or rainclouds hovering over my head a la Joe Btfsplk. I am content and willing to see what comes next, open to possibilities, and my optimistic streak has never been completely quashed.
But I can’t see the value in encouraging the notion--one which I have fondly harbored--that a nip here, a left turn there, or just THINKING HARDER is going to get you self-actualized. Or cause you to stumble into the narrative path of destiny. Because, seriously kids, it’s not. I hearken back to the call of the teacup, because it is--I find--such an apt illustration of what you need to do instead. Pour the just-boiled water over your favorite brew, in your absolute favorite cup...and watch it steep. Sip it. Say, “that’s pretty good, isn’t it?” Because it is. And it will rarely get better.
As for cosmic callings in general...I do doubt that the cosmos is in the calling business. It just bes, and all you can do is be with it. I realize this is not very satisfactory to those who (like me) were hoping for divine inspiration. And I’m not going to claim to have the last word on this--perhaps I have reached an erroneous conclusion and will be happily disillusioned at some future point on the timeline. (Or unhappily if it turns out that I’m actually the anti-hero of the story, or a minion. All narratives, after all, require their antagonists.)
In the meantime, tea.
2 comments:
:) i like it.
tea, yes. The Russian Caravan soaked really hot for three minutes, strain the big chunks out,,,,. I will read a good book someday on all this if it ever congeals enough for you to put it all down, I'll buy it!. You have periodically grounded our perspectives on the daily life of living with a major life change on your horizon, for the better.
D&J
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