For many years I had the habit of being so anxious to see how things were going to end in whatever novel I was reading that I would skip to the last pages to find out. I’d like to say it got in the way of my enjoyment of the story line but it didn’t. At that point in my life my need to know ruled. I was young and impatient, anxious to know how the story ended.
I was in a rush.
Instead of savoring each line that was written I wanted to know what would happen in the next chapter before it was read. I needed to know how it would all turn out so I could relax and enjoy the story – at least that is what I thought at the time. I wanted the happy ending despite knowing even then that not all stories have happy endings.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
We are living in such uncertain times with a world leader (and I use the term leader loosely) who thrives on people’s discomfort with uncertainty, throwing a daily dose of whatever insanity he wants to pepper the world with. Most days it feels like I am at the penny arcade on the boardwalk, with a mallet in my hand, playing a game of Whac-a-Mole. Just when I think I’ve hit my quota another ugly head pops up and there is some other craziness that emerges.
I am no longer young or in a rush for time to pass too quickly yet these days there is a part of me that is like the young girl who skipped to the last few pages so she could read in the comfort of knowing how the story ends. It would be easier to manage all this insanity if there was a certainty that this was like a Mission Impossible movie. In the end you know the good guys and gals win even though you cringe through every scene where there is a question mark that maybe you’re wrong. You rest in the safety of that knowing. Except real life is not like that.
There is no flipping to the last pages of a book where the ending is already written. There is no speed reading to get through the next two years and get this over with. (Yes I wrote two years because I remain hopeful that the power in Congress will shift at the midterms.) Instead there is the daily work of navigating these waters of uncertainty. And yes it is work.
Each day we are all writing a new entry to this larger story just as we are writing the story of our own lives. That might be calling your representative, speaking up at a town hall, voting in everything from a primary to a general election or simply committing a random act of kindness. Open the door for a stranger. Look up from your phone and acknowledge the world around you. Note: action – no matter how small – is more gratifying than sharing or commenting on a post on social media.
For me I find managing the never ending distraction of the daily game of Whac-a-Mole to be the most challenging. As a friend pointed out to me the other day over coffee, we are all living our lives and no matter how positive they may be on any given day there is always this dark cloud hanging in the distance, distracting us from our individual purposes.
The ending of all this may not be certain, but one thing I am sure of is that we all have a hand in writing it.
This article was originally published on Does This Make Sense? on Substack. Subscribe for free.
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