I arrived at work today at 4 AM (a schedule which is becoming painfully, agonizingly routine - the biggest "perk" of a "real job" that I'm looking forward to is making 3 AM alarms clocks the exception rather than the rule). I slid into my place behind the oven workstation, which is right beside the deli workstation, which is manned by my buddy Ron. Ron and I have lovely, stimulating conversations at 4 AM, in which we contemplate the meaning of the word "suppurating," the various alternative paths of life, and the evolution of the television series as an entertainment form. Ron is somewhat brilliant (he took and passed the MENSA intelligence test and then turned down membership because, as he put it, he "didn't get the point") and a dangerously sharp sense of humor - dangerous because if you're not careful, you're likely to be its object.
He wished me happy birthday, and then asked me, "What did you learn?"
I was a bit zoned this morning from my "late night birthday partying" (dinner at Ruby Tuesday's with friends, which I left at 9:3), so I didn't immediately grasp the significance of this question. "What did I learn... when?"
"This year," Ron promptly replied. "What did you learn over the last year? You should always learn something."
I paused (metaphorically - I was still frantically engaged in loading pans into the oven) and was struck by the wisdom of this question. It is a question I have often thought. One of my favorite movie scenes is the driving scene in Mr. Holland's Opus, where - after his student has veered across several traffic lanes, run over the school's shrubbery, jumped a curb, and finally come to an abrupt stop - Mr. Holland takes a deep breath and asks optimistically, "What did we learn from this?" I am constantly trying to apply that question to every aspect of my life.
"Think about it and get back to me," Ron advised, sensing that his question had temporarily overloaded my tired brain.
After some consideration, here's what I learned:
- The world really isn't going to end today based on my decisions. It didn't end, as my first math professor solemnly predicted it would, when I didn't pass my remedial math class the first time, nor did it end when I discovered I couldn't remember the chemical properties of hematite to save my life. There are some truly life-or-death decisions out there, but they don't come every day.
- No one is going to come up to me and hand me a silver platter with "My Dream" on it bow-tied, and announce, "Congratulations, the time has come for all your dreams to come true and for all the things you want to materialize. Wake up as the person you've always wanted to be!" Now is a good time to pursue talents and skills, launch projects, hang shelves, and travel. There might be school, work, and a busy time right now, but there might be kids, in-law visits, or work later. My one goal this year is to really live this principle. Everything is not possible right now, but everything will not be possible later, and something is possible today.
- I have a lot of freedom as an adult to do things because I want to. On the surface, this sounds self-centered, but I honestly don't mean it to be. Let me give you a few examples: as an adult, for instance, I am justified in teaching English and Literature to homeschoolers because I have a talent for it, a venue for it, and I enjoy it. I don't have to justify skirt-wearing with "My parents make me do it," "It's a religious thing," or even, "It's the way I was raised." All of these are true - but as an adult I can also say, "I enjoy it." And as an adult, I don't have to babysit unless I want to. I have resolved to never be guilted into entertaining large groups of brats ever, ever, ever again. :) On the other hand, as an adult, if I am working with children, I can demand respect.
- Healing really is possible in some relationships. I have a relationship with my Dad that is at a level now that it has not been at since I was a little girl. Most of this rebonding has taken place over the last year or so and involved some very specific steps of acknowledgement, restitution, and forgiveness. I have learned through the experience of rebuilding this relationship that if both parties are willing to work on it, restoration is possible. This gives me hope for other relationships in my life that have yet to experience this healing.
- I have flaws and issues, deep ones, and if I do not choose to broadcast them, that does not make me a fake or a liar. One of the most hurtful things ever said to me was when someone close to me hurled in anger, "If [dear friends of mine] knew what you were really like, they would be disgusted." I struggled with this for a long time... I had never sought to hide my flaws or struggles... was it true, that the "real me" was somehow the one with all the problems and not the side of me who occasionally got it together? I have since learned - to my delight - that I am like the dodecahedron from The Phantom Tollbooth. I have many faces, many "sides" if you will, but each one if firmly attached and in some way a reflection of my inner self. This does not obligate me to show every person every face.
- Be conscious of and seek for those "guides of questionable nature" along the "hero's journey" of life.
And finally...
- Don't be afraid to put yourself out there - write the letter that says exactly how you feel, share the poem that is a bit intimate, tell someone exactly what they have meant to you, stand up for something even when nobody else agrees with you. Thank you for this lesson, Professor Karlin.