Blowing in on the Wind
It the is the eve of my birthday and a brisk, whistling wind flutters through my window and tickles my blinds. It’s early, before six, before much of the world has stirred, and everything is quiet. I couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it is the wind, which seems to remind me that change is inevitable. Perhaps it’s all the impending change on the not-too-distant horizon. So much seems to ride on the next week, and pitch of the news has reached a fever so high it’s dizzying. I’ve been reminding myself to take deep breaths. “Stay Grounded” is the name of the current game.
The benefit of getting older, aside from the perspective with each passing year that I am lucky to do so, is that I’ve got a longer roadmap to reflect back upon. When I look at the sequence of events in my life, it appears much less like the pinball machine it felt like at the time. I could not have anticipated the twists and turns, but neither can I deny there is a strange logic about them. One experience lead directly to another. Perceived mistakes and failures lead to the most unexpected grace. And often, the sharp left turns I was so resistant to taking lead to the sunniest paths I’ve seen. I am sitting here, listening to the wind and feeling that I know myself better than I ever have, due to the mistakes, due to the failures, due to the sharp left turns. So perhaps it’s time I start trusting the sequence.
My apartment is full of souvenirs from my twisted path. An old, empty wine bottle takes me back to my early twenties in New York, and a job that taught me about boundaries. A black and white photograph, to high school, when I was just beginning to understand my creativity. My rickety kitchen table, to a break up and starting a new life, when I was just beginning to understand my voice. A bowl upon that table that was a gift from a friend that’s helped me a lot along the way. I hear my little dog yawn in the bedroom. I adopted her the day after I didn’t book what I’d anticipated would be the biggest “break” of my career at that point. I was devastated, but because of that pain, I decided I couldn’t keep putting things I knew I wanted on hold for the “what if’s” in my mind. The show never made it to air, and I got the most perfect companion I could have ever asked for. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My blinds are chattering at me to start the day. The wind has picked up now, with gusts of new energy. It feels a little frantic, as if it, too, has a lot on its mind. Perhaps it does, perhaps we all do. Perhaps this is part of the universal condition, to be sometimes overwhelmed with the infiniteness of possibilities, sometimes overwhelmed by the (seeming) lack of them. My hope, in the ripening of my age, is that I can soothe the tightness of my expectations by trusting the very change that has carried some of the greatest gifts of my life on the back of its breeze.