Dear Life,
I know you dig the whole 'change' thing, and the whole 'getting older' thing, and the whole 'hold on to your butts' thing, but dang. All at once, Life? Harsh. Like, ALL THE TIME.
(In my best whiny voice, with my head totally thrown back and a pained grimace on my face (hey, wasn't that the name of that weird purple monster/mascot/what is that/thing for McDonald's when we were kids?? was that foreshadowing, Mickey D's? (I digress.)).) Whhhyyyy, Life? Whhhyyyyyy? (little stomp on the ground.) (And I get that you (audience) may not know why (whhhyyyy) I'm throwing this tantrum, but I fully realize that you're probably having your own about the same thing at the same time - I got you, boo. Insert your own indignation, your own confusion, your own thing. It's ok.)
I turned older on Friday. I'm almost to the halfway mark. It's weird. Remember when you were little and it felt like you were always waiting for something to come or happen. Always. It felt like Christmas came once every 10 years. YEEEEARS. Ugh. Forever. And birthdays...you had to wait SO long to turn 7. Now, here it is in the middle of June and they're putting out decorations already for Halloween of 2025 (get it quick before it's all gone). I know you feel me. During the pandemic when we were all home and cozy it did feel like things slowed down. Now it's like, just kidding runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun.
I remember having the occasion to fly during the pandemic. I had to get to the east coast from Seattle due to a family emergency. SEA (the airport) was eerily quiet. I came through security alone. I walked through the terminal alone. There were 4 people at the gate and we were so far apart from each other that it was like we were guarding loaded bases. There were 7 people on that flight from SEA to Dulles (including the flight crew). DC was mostly stoic, monuments with graffiti, lit-up historic landmarks, and pretty much empty streets. Things changed in an instant to get to that point. When I compare it to what the airport is like today, what flights are like today, it's almost like that time was a distant deep sleep dream (where it was so unreal you question if it was real). You know.
I'm GRATEFUL for the return to industry. So many people were deeply impacted in a painful way by the pandemic. I am grateful that the world is getting back to healthy. That's the most important piece. It's just the pace that feels a little mad, which is a perfect example that lends itself toward my tantrum in protest of the bananas rate of change. And the sprint to get to wherever. And the magnitude of change ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Ugh. (Grimace.) (Now I kinda want fries...no, no, I don't.)
Life, sometimes you don't feel like you're helping me. You feel like the kind of friend who tells you ALL the most critical news at the same inopportune moment. You feel like a prankster sometimes. Only the stuff you're dealing out isn't a prank. I wish they were pranks. They're not. To draw an example (just for fun) you kinda feel like the friend who tells me to drink harmlessly from the hose after a long afternoon riding bikes in the California sunshine. I really want the refreshing element of the drink from the hose. I do. I go willingly. I totally think 'yah, that's a brilliant idea!' I'm organically excited about it. Only, you're standing at the spigot (which is really a fire hydrant) and in reality you've not handed me a gentle, manageable PSI hose...you've handed me a fire hose. (Think of kids playing in an open hydrant in the middle of a city street in the heat of summer.) Isn't that fun? When you're on the receiving end of the direct impact of the fire hose violence, no. No, it's not fun. I feel like I'm going to die. Like this is the worst thing ever. Like I would use every possible wish of the collective years of my life to make it stop. Seriously - every coveted, precious birthday wish from my childhood, every intact dandelion in the whole world. I feel like aggressively shaking the lapels of your Friday night dinner jacket, Life, and with a look of utter confusion yelling, "why is this necessary?" But I can't. Because I'm drinking from a violent, unendingly drowning firehose. Again, it's one thing in a moment to feel like things are out of control or to feel confused, and then to realize, oh, that was a planned joke at my expense. Yah, that was funny. It happened, I hated it, I acted like I was chill in the moment, and then it was over. But...you're different, Life. The hose is in my hands but I can't let go, the broken Hoover Dam is a merciless, drowning deluge, I can't breathe, it's up my nose (painful), my eyes are braced and clenched shut to avoid them popping out at the water pressure (too graphic? maybe?) and the thing won't. stop.
I feel like that.
You like to playfully call it progression. That's funny. Can I get a kleenex or something? Some goggles? A super sexy swim cap? A kick board? SOMETHING?? I mean, ok, I know it's just me. I know it's me growing up, growing old, living in the world, being a part of this global community. That lens focuses waaaaay in (molecularly) and then WAAAAAAAY out (oh, look (pointing excitedly), it's the universe!). Ugh. I'm tired already. 'Do you want a little, tiny, itty bitty sip from the hose?' you (LIFE) ask with wide-eyed innocence. And in an instant I'm water boarded again. *Sigh
Remember when the world was broken and closed for 2 years? And nature kinda went back to being herself and the ocean cleared up and the sky cleared up and all kinds of things stopped for a minute (all relatively - a doctor or a nurse reading this would definitely see that I do not have the same lens as they do. For them, the firehose was not the Hoover Dam, it was the Pacific Ocean. No, it was ALL the oceans at the same time for TWO. YEARS. (See, Life?? That's not funny.))? In my span of vision, the world returning to normal was much like race horses at the starting gate. Once the world had a sliver of 'return to normal' (which...what is normal?? But I digress...) it was everything. All at once. Everywhere. And now it feels like it's been wildly accelerated as a way to catch up on the 2 years we seemed to miss. And then, if that wasn't enough, EVERY DAY the news has something new and horrifying to relay.
Billy Joel says 'it was always burning since the world's been turning.' I don't disagree, but damn. Ok, fine. I get that I can't fix the world. But even as I narrow the field of view and draw the circle tightly around myself, there are things that are included in the lives of my people/loved ones/friends that break my heart. FIRE HOSE.
Look, I know full well that I can't reasonably do/fix/solve all the issues. And I get that hard things are legitimately part of progression. I just wish in earnest that I COULD do/fix/solve - that would be amazing (in theory). I know that the journey we walk is about choosing. It's hard. Choosing what to do, choosing who to be, choosing how to apply our pain, our joy, our learning, our successes, our failures. Choosing who and how to forgive. Choosing where to direct our attention, our time, our efforts, our energy. Choosing when to stay. Choosing when to go. There's always a risk. There's always a consequence. It's not all bad - hard, yes, but bad, no. It's like that episode of 'I Love Lucy' where she's working at a chocolate factory and she knows she's can't properly prepare every piece of chocolate to task down the conveyor belt, so she starts shoving pieces in her mouth to try to meet the objective. You can see that she's stressing about it, but she wants to do a good job. She wants to finish the task, and it's like she only just makes it across the finish line. And then the supervisor in summary says that that was a training speed, kicks it up to full throttle and the belt goes impossibly faster. She's struggling to keep up, it's desperate, her mouth is stuffed to max capacity with pieces of chocolate and all of these pieces are flying past her. It's clear her head is screaming 'HELP!!!'. Whether the fire hose or the conveyor belt - in both examples it's a lot at once and it's sometimes brutal to take it all in and be ok.
Sometimes we're not ok.
In a perspective switch/lens change, Life, I can also see this fire hose/conveyor belt as a means for growth. I mean, duh, right? But go with me on this: There are SO many things happening. There are SO many things that directly and indirectly impact me. Somethings I know I can contribute to. Somethings...well, I don't know exactly what to do to stop a war in the Ukraine. Or to heal places suffering from drought. Or to end homelessness and poverty...I just...I don't know how to solve those things. But I want to. So, my prayers, my acts of service, the intentions of my donations - even if they are grains of sand in comparison to the mountain of whatever it is that poses as the challenge/trial/thing, I have to remember that it's actually grains of sand that compose that very mountain. The fix is not always one grand thing, but rather many small, seemingly indifferent things over the span of time. The choice rests in the doing. If/when I feel a certain way about it, I can do something (add a grain) or not. The point is there is work to do - so, choose. Do. Go. Contribute to whatever moves me/you. Live. I think that's what you're trying to say, Life. At least today, in my present fire-hose-conveyor-belt-ness it is the piece I'm CHOOSING to extract and apply.
Wait, can I make it a chocolate fire hose?? That possibility made the venture very exciting. I'll still drown. But I'll like it a little more.
Bumbling through in the dark (don't step there it's slippery...whoops),
J.
