It’s Never Too Late to Relearn a Lesson

Emotional evolution is not a linear process.

I’ve written so many blog posts that I have to maintain a spreadsheet to keep track of them all. I sometimes notice posts on that spreadsheet that I’ve forgotten all about. Did I write it well? Does the present me agree with what the past me has said? Even if my blog posts are cast in stone, more or less, I am not. Pardon my gigantic ego, but it can be fascinating to read my own writing from a whole new perspective.

Case in point, the following blog post, which I wrote back in 2015. It’s full of sage advice, that, thankfully, I still agree with. So much so, in fact, that this post found its way into my book.

From the sound of it, it seems that I really believed at the time that I had mastered all those lessons. The present me wonders if I was ever really that evolved, and if so, what has happened in the interim? At the moment, it’s all I can do to do the best that I can.

Based on personal experience, some lessons need to be learned repeatedly. So thank you, 50-year-old me, for reminding me that emotional evolution is not a linear process. There’s always work to be done. But if that weren’t the case, if every lesson glomed onto you like a barnacle to a pier post, all of us would “arrive” at enlightenment eventually.

And then what? Universal enlightenment sounds boring to me. It leaves no room for growth. So here’s another lesson for you, Dear Reader: It’s not the destination. It’s the journey.

Namaste.

Lessons I Should Have Learned Way Before Age 50

Original post: August 13, 2015

This has been a year of great change and great learning for me. I’m starting completely over at 50, and that creates a unique set of challenges. It also allows for a unique set of insights. Here are a few things that I’m finally starting to figure out this year that I wish I had understood a long time ago.

Not everyone is going to like your pets as much as you do. This was a hard lesson for me to accept, because I know for a fact that I have the best two dogs on earth, but hey, what are you going to do?
You can’t force people to like you. It would be great to get along with everyone, but some people just aren’t going to like you. They may have made that decision before even meeting you. They may genuinely find you irritating. Or there may be some negative chemistry going on that defies explanation that neither of you can do anything about. Oh well.
You can’t convince people to love you. People will either love you or they won’t. Behaving differently or trying to act charming won’t change that. So stop worrying about it. Let whatever happens happen.
There’s no point in worrying about what other people think. In fact, it’s quite liberating when you stop caring. I’m not saying you should throw the Golden Rule out the window. I’m just saying you shouldn’t twist yourself into a pretzel to obtain some stamp of approval that you may or may not get.
You’re most likely not going to radically change in the most fundamental ways. I’ve always had this fantasy that I’d become this person who dressed in artsy clothes and wore a long thick braid over my shoulder. Yeah, I could do that, but the truth is, I’m too lazy to invest in clothes and I’m a wash and wear hair kind of girl. And that’s okay.
People may want you to change, but that’s their problem. I have wasted a lot of time feeling guilty that I haven’t lost the weight other people want me to lose, or been this outgoing social butterfly who likes to join groups. But you know, screw it. Screw them. I’m me.
Rules are made to be broken. The older you get, the more you can get away with. Take advantage of that. It’s fun.
It’s great to learn from other people’s mistakes. Let someone else do the heavy lifting for a change.
Just because you’re craving something doesn’t mean you should eat it. As time goes on, more food disagrees with me. I may want that meatball sub, but I know I’ll regret it. That’s not going to change.
Take chances. If there is something that can change, and you want it to, you’re going to have to take risks. If you don’t, you’ll gather dust. What a waste of life!
Don’t let others decide what is important to you. Your priorities for my life do not automatically constitute my game plan for my life.
People love it when you’re curious about their lives. Pull your head out of your behind and ask questions about others. They’ll enjoy being in the place of expertise, and you might just learn something.
Never stop learning. Read. Discuss. Travel. Ask questions. Be okay with the fact that you don’t know everything. Then life will always be an adventure.
Look in the opposite direction every once in a while. I’ve discovered that when going about my daily routine, I tend to look at the same things. But there’s stuff behind you, and to the left of you, and even overhead, that you may not have noticed before. And often it’s beautiful.
Get over yourself. If you’re holding on to old baggage or regrets or disappointments, what does that achieve?
You only have so much energy. Don’t waste it on stupid shit. It’s okay to not participate in the drama or tolerate the crap. In fact, when you draw firm boundaries, not only does it reduce your stress, but others usually wind up appreciating it, too.
It’s easier to live without secrets. I was living with a doozie for a while there, and when I finally admitted it to my friends and family, it turns out that they didn’t care! I spent so much energy and time guarding that stupid secret that I could have used on something else that was more productive. Just get it out there.
It is so much fun to be able to laugh at yourself. Be silly. Delight yourself. Have fun. Don’t take yourself so freakin’ seriously. Life’s too short.

Those Moments

That moment when you realize that you’re a fundamentally decent person: It’s a lovely spring day and you’re having a picnic in the park with your boyfriend and your two dogs. Along comes a crack addict with her mortified 4 year old in tow, and from 50 yards away she starts screaming at you that you better not sic your dogs on her or she is going to f*** you up. You are stunned that anyone would even come up with that concept with regard to you. It is so foreign as to make you question if you’re awake.

That moment when you comprehend that maybe the next generation will have it under control after all. It’s the end of a very long, grueling two weeks of fundraisers and events to raise money for the earthquake victims in Haiti, and you look over at the exhausted 20 year old girl of Haitian descent whom you’ve been working with. She came up with the idea and coordinated everything despite her very real anxieties about the relatives she has lost as well as the relatives who have not yet gotten in touch with her. You realize you couldn’t have done that at 20. No way.

That moment when it dawns on you that you’re not in a safe place. You’re in Turkey. You don’t speak the language and the only person in sight is a very big, evil carpet tout who is screaming at you because you refuse to come to his shop and buy one of his products. (Avoid Diana Carpets in Selçuk, Turkey!) He towers above you, pushes you against your car, rips your souvenirs out of your hand and refuses to give them back, and you have to leap into your vehicle and race down the road. You spend the rest of the night shaking in your hostel, and all your wonderful Turkish experiences in the past two weeks seem to pale in comparison.

That moment when you discover you’re not at the top of the food chain after all. You exit the convenience store, slurpee in hand, and while passing by the open window of a van in order to get to your car, an enraged pit bull lunges out of said window, missing your face by mere millimeters. You feel his hot, stinky breath against your eyelashes. The dog’s owner is unrepentant, so in that same moment you realize that you’re also not at the bottom of the food chain, either.

That moment when you know we’re all in this together. You are the only one present to witness the very traumatic experience of a total stranger and you wrap your arms around her and just let her cry.

That moment when you grasp that you’ve become your mother. You hear yourself telling your teen-aged niece, “Life isn’t fair.”

That moment when you understand that fame is sick, twisted, and undesirable. You come upon a highly sexual photograph of 13 year old Willow Smith, and are shocked that even her father, Will Smith, who you’d think would have some power in that realm, is in fact powerless to prevent his daughter from passing through the sexuality meat grinder that is the music industry.

That moment when you can no longer deny that your boss is a total scumbag. You get a hysterical phone call from a coworker. The next phone call, which is to your boss, goes like this: “I don’t care where you are or what you are doing. Get your putrid a** over to the courthouse and take care of that parking ticket you swore you took care of MONTHS ago so that Linda can have the boot taken off her car, or so help me God…”

That moment when it dawns on you that you’re better off alone. The man you have lived with for 16 years admits to you that even though his boss has stolen 3,500 dollars from you, he’s going to continue to work for him.

That moment when you’re taught there are forces beyond your control. You make the mistake of turning your back on the ocean, and the next thing you know you are being tossed around as if you are in the world’s cruelest washing machine, and you’re wondering if you’ll ever breathe again. Then suddenly you find yourself spread eagled on the sand, coughing up sea water and thanking God you’re still alive.

That moment when you discover that you took a wrong turn in life. You are the undeserving butt of someone’s narcissistic rage for the millionth time, and when you react to that, you’re told that you’re just being hypersensitive.

That moment when you really know your sister loves you. You receive a card from her that says, “I’m glad you aren’t someone else,” and it makes you cry.

That moment when you can no longer ignore the fact that you’re sometimes just as superficial as the next person. At the swimming pool, you run into the guy you’ve had a crush on for your entire college sophomore year, and discover that he has a thick, bushy mat of back hair from his neck to his waist, and suddenly the thrill is gone.

That moment when your faith in humanity is restored. You watch an entire interstate part like the red sea in order to let an ambulance get through a traffic jam on a bridge.

That moment when you fall in love with nature all over again. You stand on the rim of the Grand Canyon and you find you cannot move. And you realize you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ospreys as Analogies

We’ve heard the expressions “stubborn as a mule”, “dogged resistance”, markets that are “bullish” and “bearish”, and I really, REALLY would love an explanation for this one: “happy as a clam”. We often use the qualities of various animals to better describe our world. In the past couple of months, I have come to realize that we ought to use the term “osprey-like determination” as well.

I recently wrote a blog entry about the ospreys that have nested near our bridge, and my coworkers and I have been observing them with much anticipation. There’s nothing quite as exciting as watching nature taking its course.

In one nest, the one in the middle of the creek that’s perched upon a channel marker, the more fortunate pair of ospreys performed admirably. Their mating, nesting, hatching and fledging went off like clockwork, although the smallest of the three chicks took several more days to leave the nest than her more adventurous siblings. Still, life went on for this family and it was a delight to observe.

Ah, but there’s always a neighbor who’s less fortunate, isn’t there? The other nesting pair, against all odds, chose to build their home on top of a traffic light. I have never seen the like of this duo. For months, with a permit to back them up, subcontractors for the Florida Department of Transportation would remove this nest on an almost daily basis, and the birds would rebuild it over and over and over again. Were they perplexed by the constant disappearing act of their nest? Impossible to say. But clearly this was their intended locale, and nothing would dissuade them.

Eventually the subcontractors aborted their mission, much to our satisfaction, and the pair settled in, taking turns keeping their eggs safe and warm. I would observe them every morning through binoculars, and they began to seem like part of the family. I came to realize that we have a lot in common.

For the past few years I have been doing everything I possibly could to move my life forward in some positive way, and it has been an enormous struggle. The odds have been against me as well. Some of my efforts have borne fruit, but even more of them have ended in disaster. Despite some really poor choices, I’ve kept trying and kept trying and kept trying, because, really, what’s the alternative? One can only curl up in the fetal position with the sheets over one’s head for so long.

Sometimes, like my osprey friends, I would sit on my figurative nest day in and day out, resigned to reach my goals in spite of the drudgery or sheer boredom required to achieve them. I cannot think of anything more tedious in nature than sitting on a nest for more than a month as ospreys have to do. That’s the epitome of perseverance.

After all this effort, on my part and on theirs, I wish I had a happy ending. This is, after all, an American tale, and we do love and expect our happy endings, don’t we? Unfortunately, we began to notice that these ospreys would abandon their nest for hours at a time. This was not standard behavior, but we continued to hold out hope for a few weeks, because they never went far, and they always came back eventually. But then one day they simply left, and have only been back for brief moments since then. Clearly something went tragically wrong. Their eggs never hatched, and eventually they realized it was time to give up and move on. The nest still stands, all but abandoned and cold.

These ospreys demonstrate the cruelest of life lessons. Sometimes, as much as we may hate to admit it, it’s time to give up and move on. Ironically, that’s exactly where I am in my life. It’s kind of a mourning process, and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It does not seem natural. It does not seem fair. But it is what it is.

Like the ospreys, I am now faced with trying to figure out where to go from here. What does one do when nature absolutely refuses to take its course despite all efforts? Where does one go, how does one cope? I feel as if I am in free fall, plummeting toward some very, very hard ground. Will I survive? Will I pull up at the last minute and take flight? Nature isn’t particularly sentimental about these things. Some of us are bound to be road kill. If everyone were a resounding success, then would it really feel like success? There are people at both ends of every bell curve.

God knows I’ve tried. I’m beginning to suspect that it really isn’t up to me. Only time will tell. The ospreys will most likely try again next year. Will I? We’ll see.

(Image credit: westernviews.us)