Sometimes I feel invincible.
There have been nights, till three in the morning with sleepy words and messy hair and brave discussions on theology and how we're so certain we're going to fix the world. Evenings of a mellow, buttery sun–the golden hour–and guitars softly strummed, ukuleles in laps, songs everyone knows on everyones lips. Nights on the rooftop, eyes up at the sky, wool socks, and knitted blankets and quilts pulled tight around shoulders as we spin as fast as the world, because we're growing up and no one can stop us. Days full of chasing joy and dance parties in orchards and road trips with windows rolled all the way down and camping on the sand at the sea, the sea, the sea and big cups of coffee in a messy kitchen and shoulders touching and dashing through a forest of blackberry bushes and falling in love and out of it and ferry rides and piles of journals bursting with ideas. Those moments when everything is right even though it's not, because companionship and friendship and then.
Sometimes I feel inadequate.
Like I never did enough or I should have chosen something else and I'll never actually make what needs to happen happen. There are days when I'm frightened. My voice gets caught in my throat before the words can come out to someone who cares and then they never do. The fear that I haven't done enough, won't do enough, it's crippling. And maybe, in the middle of church, hands in mid-clap, eyes wide and sure, I forget and I miss a beat and I doubt. What am I doing here? Is this even right? I turned the wrong way somewhere, tried to move the wrong mountain, didn't I?
We often don't recognize that we can always, always change our minds.
You can begin again.
I think the reason we don't actually believe that is because we don't say it to each other. Face to face, one human to another, mistakes and regrets pushed aside, and with fleshy, rose colored lips forming the words, You can start over. No one ever actually says that to anyone. Because we don't want to be wrong. We don't want to have to look at someone later and think, I never should have told them that. They were right. They missed their shot. False encouragement is a betrayal no one wants to commit. Most of us like to keep our transgressions to a certain number, and so we avoid the subject, we don't take the risk. We only allude to the fact that it's never too late. We hesitate, and the pause we take swells larger and larger till we forget how we were actually going to reassure them, instead we mourn with them.
Regrets are real. Maybe you should have let your dad kiss you on the forehead that one time you were leaving the house in a hurry. Maybe you shouldn't have even gone. You should have said sorry. You should have stayed up later around the campfire that one night and sang with your friends and listened to the crickets and prayed those prayers. You should have taken that class you always wanted to. You should have learned to surf. You should have visited Big Sur. Maybe you should have fought harder for her. Maybe you should have let him go.
Maybe you should have done it all, or nothing at all.
Maybe you should have.
Marina Keegan once wrote that "The notion that it's too late to do anything is comical." And she was right. There are a lot of things I want to do. There are a lot of things you want to do too. Own your nows, and you can possibly do them all. It's going to sound lame and mother-ish, but all you have to do is believe.
Risks not taken usually translate into regrets. And disbelief in yourself breeds unflattering inconsistencies in other areas of your life.
As human beings, we don't really owe each other anything, but I think we should tell the truth and try a little harder for one another.
So be here, with me.
Climb Mt. Everest.
Swim with dolphins.
Become an editor.
Start a nonprofit.
Grow your own garden.
Stand on a bridge and shout.
Jump.
Learn another language.
Greet your neighbor.
Leave your favorite book in a coffee shop.
Love with abandon.
Give the homeless guy your shoes and coffee and second chance.
Get back up.
Go see the state of Oklahoma.
Create your own company.
Quit your job, and build stuff instead.
Fly to Ethiopia for six months.
Paint.
Get married, or don't.
Visit your grandfather.
Fight.
Try and try and try.
Those times when you feel invincible should rule your life. They should consume all the grief you feel for the times you didn't. And this is me daring you, to live with abandon, to strike out in courage, to leap. This is me being human with other humans, and I want you to as well.
Come.
It's never too late.
6Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.
Deuteronomy 31
"To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life."
You can read Marina Keegan's full essay here. Also, go buy her book, published posthumously. It's worth every penny.
The words at the bottom are from the film, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Watch it. Then go to Iceland.
No comments:
Post a Comment