hold me, wrap me up, unfold me

title: breathe me – artist: sia

By request.

it took awhile to understand the beauty of just letting go
[let him fly | patty griffin]

Sometimes it’s because you earmarked a particular age, perhaps when you were eight, or twelve, or fifteen or twenty-two, or whenever, really, for some measurable or specific achievement. Then you find you’ve arrived at this flagged destination only to have it fail to correspond to the previously envisioned scenario.

Other times it may be because, in some way, you’ve come face-to-face with the reality that you aren’t the only one in the circle of your youth who hit one of these "officially adult" ages by a means and in a manner, not just wholly unlike the system of arrival you all anticipated, but one with a flair for the traumatic.

Or, maybe, when your birthday rolls around a particular year, you realize you are now the age your mother was when she gave birth to you. And while you might not have gone so far as to picture a specific timeline for your life when you would be married and having the babies, and it didn’t even completely shake you, it is something you’re thinking about now.

Whatever it is, and by whatever route it arrived in your consciousness, you’re in the middle of assessing and weighing and measuring your life. And, if we’re being at least a little uncomfortably honest, you’re probably not seeing it from the vantage of, "Huh. Well… it definitely didn’t go as planned. But, man, does my life rock!" No, it’s likely more along the lines of tallying all the shortcomings, missteps and supposed failures and wondering how it all went so far off the rails. Your inner idealist slowly loosens its grip on whatever fight it had left as you begin to wonder if the bitter cynics that vehemently railed against it at its strongest were right all along and you were foolish enough to ignore them for giving in and giving up. They would probably tell you this moment is called "growing up." I’m telling you this moment is one you’re going to have to revisit and reconsider if you want to be a happy, well-adjusted adult. But we’ll get to that soon enough.

This is the truth, growing up never goes as planned. Even when it seems to follow the broad strokes of "The Plan," there are far too many variables that aren’t accounted for and that affect the outcome in unanticipated ways. And then there’s that whole "no man is an island" factor. There are other people involved. Constantly. And even when you manage to account for a whole lot, there are always going to be surprises.

It would be great if, rather than encountering what seems to be an incessant showdown between idealism and cynicism, this constant struggle between two extremes, someone would step in and say, "Hey. Look. It probably isn’t going to turn out as planned. The subtleties and possibilities involved in any given situation are immense. Even if you could anticipate them all, people will surprise you and do things you don’t expect. And, honestly, sometimes you’re just going to miss it or mess up. None of this is enough to quit over or give your hope up for, though. The same things that can bring pain and disappointment are the things in which there is boundless beauty to be found. Make the decision to love your life and live it the best you know how in any given moment. Know that you’re going to get it wrong sometimes. You’re going to have reason to apologize and ask for forgiveness, from yourself and others. Goals and ideals are sometimes going to be adjusted and change. But none of this means you’re a failure. It means you’re alive. And, too, for the record, there are going to be times you get it right, you do it well, you find those moments and ways to embrace living at its best. Just don’t quit. You can’t lose if you don’t quit."

Maybe then we wouldn’t be so prone to spending our twenties trying to figure out how to get "back on track" to the life and plan we envisioned in our infinite wisdom at, say, thirteen or fifteen or eighteen, or eight, if we were extremely precocious.

This is the life we’ve got. This one. Right here. Right now. This is it. Maybe you’re not where you thought you’d be. Or maybe you’re where you thought you’d be, but it isn’t what you’d thought it would be. So what? As you embark on the great assessment of your life thus far, rather than turn to the things that didn’t go the way you wanted or expected, why not mine the gold? Our lives are filled with beautiful moments and events and turning points, anticipated and surprising, both. Your life is this glorious story, but what are you telling yourself?

I know it hasn’t all been awesome and shiny and amazing. I have battle scars and horror stories, too. But is that how you want to define your existence? Is that what you want to constantly rehearse in your head, to the degree that it isn’t just the inner monologue you have accompanying your day, but it becomes the structure the rest of your life is built around?

I know this can be viewed as hackneyed and trite. But I’m writing this as much for me as anyone else. I’ve spent too long waiting for adulthood to set in. Waiting to figure out how to, or, really, hoping my life on its own would, get "back on track," when the reality is that I’m missing these moments right now. This is life. This is adulthood.

There is always going to be somebody who seems more with it, more together, more on top of it than we are. Always. And if we’re waiting for some magical moment where it finally feels like we’ve arrived, well, I’m not so sure that ever comes. And to always have this sense of putting "living" on hold until we arrive at some goal or status or destination… I just… what’s the point? Why? I’m not advocating throwing out all planning or responsibility or thought for the future. We’re hardwired to look ahead and envision greatness and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s pretty freaking awesome, actually. But to abandon appreciation of the here and now just because it’s not there and that? That’s just ridiculous.

Look, maybe it didn’t go as planned. Maybe our lives look nothing like we thought they would. But, what do you say to finding the glorious bits in all the years of our existence and where we’ve wound up while we take the steps to wind up somewhere even better?

Don’t give up your hope. And don’t belittle your life.

you can’t await your own arrival
[let go | frou frou]

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