One of my very best friends occasionally says, "Two arms, two legs," when she gets up in the morning. When I finally asked her about it's significance, she explained: "I learned it from my mom. Any time my siblings or I complained about something growing up, she'd remind me us that at least we had two arms and two legs. A number of people in the world weren't granted that gift." A beautiful look at perspective and gratefulness, I've adopted the habit of using this expression. Two arms, two legs. How lucky am I?
Yesterday while driving on the freeway, Tim pointed to the car in front of us and grinned.
"I like that bumper sticker," he said. "'Hope isn't hiring'." I didn't say anything, which led him to explain further. "You know, 'I hope I pass this test,' or 'I hope I get that job.' Hope's just not enough."
"I get it. Yeah, I like it, too," I said, although I didn't really mean it. Not then, anyway. To be honest, I wasn't even entirely listening to him, but instead involved in conversation in the backseat of the Yukon, squinting in the afternoon sun and ready for the glass of champagne awaiting me at the function we were heading to.
But today, I woke up thinking about that quote. Hope isn't hiring. A little cutting or abrasive, maybe, but certainly honest. "Hope is the thing with feathers," wrote Emily Dickinson, "that perches in the soul/ And sings the tune without the words,/And never stops at all." As flowery and poetic as that might be, I also think Dickinson's logic is highly misguided. People can prophesize or write about the beauty of hope all they want to, but the truth is hope alone can't really do anything at all. Real positive change and success comes directly from action and effort and perseverance.
I've been stressed about the future lately. Largely unknown, potentially bleak in the position I'm hoping for, and financially insecure, 2012.5 and beyond is a vast canvas of bare uncertainty. It's scary and unnerving. I spend a good deal of time--too much time--wishing I had more answers. Big parts of me want my life shaped now, and patience is a virtue my psyche hasn't quite mastered. But then, I came across this post, written a few years ago during a time when I was reevaluating life decisions and contemplating change. It made me remember that one of the many privileges of being human lies in the choices we make or don't make; in the actions we take or don't take, in the words we say or don't say, and in embracing the opportunities that grace our path...or forging ahead anyway when they don't. As scary as it is, and as ridiculously cheesy as it sounds, I'm the one person in charge of my future. It's entirely mine to mold or change or prove or break. And then Tom Petty's "Learning to Fly" suddenly came on the radio, and while I'm certainly not one to believe in signs, it was hard not to listen to the words in a different light:
Some say life will beat you down
Break your heart; steal your crown
So I've started out, for God knows where
I guess I'll know when I get there
I guess I will know when I get there. Or maybe I won't, because part of growing up is accepting the fact that you never truly get there, since there is nothing more than a metaphorical and euphemistic ideal that doesn't exist. Instead, hopefully you find happiness and fulfillment where you are, and learn to embrace each new definition are encompasses throughout the years.
There are a million things I want to do and see and be and create and learn and explore in this life. I know I'm the sole artist of the canvas of my future, and by my last day on earth, I hope that artistic creation is a chaotic and worn-out masterpiece. But right now, some of the bare and whitest spots gleam a little too blankly for my taste; desperately yearning to be strewn haphazardly with color-- too darkly or too messily and outside of the lines. That white canvas is big and daunting and unknown, especially when I know it's the only one I get...no need to wait in line for an exchange; it doesn't exist. And whether I like it or not, the wheel of the world doesn't stop turning for anything or anyone. The date changes and moves hour by hour into the rest of my life. The show goes on. And lucky for us, every single morning is one more chance to live and breathe in this great big world. To celebrate the beauty of the not-knowing. To rise and thank whatever gods may be for our unconquerable souls. Two arms, two legs. There is a crack in everything-- (That's how the light gets in).
It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Invictus; W.E. Henley
