For this I see, that we, all we that live, Are but vain shadows,
unsubstantial dreams.- Sophocles
For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for
everything you gain, you lose something else.- Ralph Waldo Emerson
If you really want something in this life, you have to work for it - Now
quiet, they're about to announce the lottery numbers!- Homer Simpson
How does one live well?
I think that one's thirties are filled with tumult. Hopefully, with hard fought lessons and decisions made, you have figured out just who you are. But, in my experience, many of us have not figured out just exactly what we must have to make us feel happy, honest, just, and joyful.
We have ideas, sure, but we are locked in the business of struggle: against destitution, against hypocracy, for something precious, or philosophically battling a demon in order to live amongst our better angels. Maybe it's just my good friends and me, but I think it's a broader brush, a more common struggle.
M has decided never to board a plane, which means I will never see her unless I board a plane to Oz. This makes me sad - and I hear in her blog her struggle with this decision because travel has been such a big part of her identity development. But, in this case, it is a triumph of a more defining part of her identity since she moved to the country. Travel is not the essence of her existence any longer, but not having it on the horizon must feel painful. It pains me, so many thousands of miles away, but her decision is also one of joy.
J's development property cannot be sold - and her life has been on hold for four years waiting to sell it. Now, after working 8 months in a job she hates she must decide whether to start herself fresh or keep herself locked in stasis for what looks to be another half a decade. Will she give it all up and move to be near me? Will she give it all up and move to New Zealand, her mother's native country? If she does move on, what will she do?
C is beginning a journey toward pregnancy, which may be long and arduous. I want to believe in miracles on her behalf. I will write her love letters - but how long will this journey be? I am frightened for her, for the psychology of being a woman. There is so much baggage that comes along with marrying, mothering - and baggage of its own when any of those become hard fought. It is the anniversary of her sister's death in a couple of weeks. Magic things happen around this time of year for all those who are close to C's family. I will hope that Boomer is looking down and laying all her blessings on C.
And, I am struggling with the limitations of schooling, the unsatisfying experiences I will be required to give my students with the idea of "teaching" them, when I have philosophically different ideas about it. The institutionalization of children weighs on me. I am perpetuating a cycle. Is the answer to opt out - or can I find a way to give, to love, to teach within the boundaries set and without losing my belief in the essence of what learning must be?
The journey is beautiful and fearsome.
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