Whatever I say at this point in the pandemic, it is said with the realization that privilege, luck, and some precautionary measures have all played a role in not yet getting Covid. While the psychological effects of isolation have been different for each and every one of us, introversion played a huge role in my resiliency. This time gave me the final push I needed to embrace who I am – someone who likes people in micro-doses and can be content for long stretches of time on my own. It’s not news to me, but in the past I made an effort to do things and spend time with people with whom I’d simply rather not. I have a partner, a kid away at college, and I’m feeling the quiet desperation of time slipping away. This is all to say that there is no compelling argument for me to be out in the world.
I’ll graduate in three months with a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, a few months shy of turning 56. It sounds like a made-up degree, like getting a Doctorate in the Folding of Fitted Sheets or a Bachelor’s in Sleeping at Inappropriate Moments (degrees I also have), but the tuition bill was very, very real. In my twenties I dropped out of grad school midway through a Master’s program in Russian Linguistics. I was haunted by that failure, but even then, I knew it was the right thing to do. Now, just as cognitively I might be deteriorating at the edges, I’m reorienting my entire life in the direction of writing and teaching. The heat is on.
In the middle of everything, my brain chose to give me some clarity of vision. Epiphanies come when we can step away from busy lives, quiet our minds, think about what we keep and what we let go. There’s a lot I’ve decided to stop doing, from consumer practices to volunteering. I’m not sure who I’ll be if I’m not compulsively saying Yes, I’ll do it. I’d like to find out. I’d like to find out how much less I’d purchase if I can’t do it from the comfort of my home with a single click. It’s the uninterrupted focus of the empty nester. Oh? This is who I’ve become? Who do I want to be? And on darker days, is this it?
The funny thing about embracing who I am is that I don’t necessarily want to write about it. I’m enjoying just being and not doing a running commentary on my life. This blog is the only place I’ve done that over the years and it seems, that like the current zeitgeist, it’s turning more and more inward, becoming less and less interesting. Hence, the long periods of time without a new post. I’m not particularly enamored of my own opinions, at least not enough to foist them upon you. So what to write about?
Perhaps curiosity will be my guide. I keep thinking about Socrates’ description of the mind being like an aviary full of birds, with each bird representing some piece of knowledge that we snatch out of the air as we need it. The thing about birds though is that they flourish best when outside of a cage or else the only knowledge one will have is that which is in the cage – in current parlance, an echo chamber. It is maybe the reason why writing is sporadic. I need to set the birds free to see where they take me.
Outside the chickadees have started calling to one another – an early sign of spring even as the next snow storm moves in. I’m daydreaming about gardening, flipping through seed catalogs, and imagining the freedom of no more grad school, no more nonprofit board meetings, fewer distractions. Maybe it’s not the birds I’ll be following. Maybe I am the bird.
Congratulations! You’ve reached a milestone. With luck, you will reach many more. Like menopause and cashing out your 401K. Maybe you’ll patent an invention or live to see your grandchildren graduate. Maybe you’ll travel the world and dive off cliffs or maybe, like Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, you’ll see the world from your armchair through observation and a lot of knitting.
I have had a messy life. Or I should say lives. Once I was a poor kid growing up in a rural town. Once I was a soldier. A college student. A janitor. A tutor. I became, for a longer term, a spouse and a parent. I traveled. I stayed still. I ran. I grew fat. I shrank. I trained in martial arts. I learned to abhor violence and guns. I briefly tried politics. I grew up evangelical. I became enamored of Buddhism. I went to therapy. I tried on personas, boyfriends, jobs, hobbies. Humans shed and grow almost 1,000 new skins in a lifetime. Why would anything about us stay the same throughout our lives?
We also live in a world where everyone has opinions and way too many ways to convey them. Outside entities want you to like and thumb and swipe your way through life. They want to elevate your sense of self-importance so that you volunteer every aspect of your life like wares at a marketplace. This is the nature of consumerism, the nature of data mining and advertising. This is not the nature you want to cultivate, because in the cold dark night, when you’re alone, none of those entities will be there for you. You must learn to trust yourself, to spend time in your own head, to be your own confidant and best friend. Know yourself best so that you might understand others more. Listen more than you speak.
The lessons of generations before me eventually landed hard on my head. No matter what rights have been gained, no matter what ground has been covered, you can’t have it all. You shouldn’t have everything at once. To learn how to deeply appreciate one thing, one person, one moment is to learn how to better appreciate everything else more. To savor a moment is a luxury in a society that tells us to quickly want for the next. Defy the speed of the world around you. Slow down. Feel the joy of the moment. Be in it.
The world is full of wonders and dangers and conflict and love. We often judge lifetimes by accomplishment, by enduring works of art or invention or unfortunately, wealth. Most of us won’t end up on a college reading list or in a history book or on a Forbes list. But we can have lives well-lived, make the lives of those around us better, ensure that we do more helping than harm. Life is an adventure of your own making. Make it well.
The Green Study 