i turn 24 a week from today. i think hannah's the only friend who has shared the "sober reality" of each new year--the "getting older" feelings and realizing life's changes in unexpected ways (we aren't always "where we thought we'd be," etc.). But then there's also the sober reality of life's great gift. here i am, approaching an entirely new year. i have no idea what it will hold. i've got hopes, dreams, and plans for it--as does the next person--but don't know if or when or where or how they'll all work out. that's sort of the frustrating beauty of life, isn't it? always catching us off guard and presenting itself to us so unashamed and unapologetic. and we take it. we live it as it comes.
24 feels old. it also feels young. how is that possible? i can look at my life and wonder about why it doesn't like like i thought it would at 24. i can also look at my life and consider the ways in which it has delightfully surprised me. i feel a little frustrated that i'm 24 and a nanny--no actual career, nothing really to "wow" about. and i find myself (lately) wondering how this next year is going to unfold. it feels like a big one--inevitably large changes.
on saturday melissa and i talked about faith and hope and trust in ways that were revitalizing. just a simple conversation, really, but one that meant a lot because 1. it was with a dear friend 2. it took place at this time in my life in which i need to be reminded of the simple truths we live. if i ever take the time to slow my thoughts, my words, my questions...i always face the realities of faith and hope and trust. i don't know how they can be avoided in this world. i could never deny the process of faith i fight to live, learn, and develop. i could never deny the hope that hangs in the air and seems to us elusive and fragile. i could never deny the need for moment-by-moment trust in something larger than myself. ever. these things become more and more real to me each year i live. i guess that's a gift. it's definitely a mystery.
finally...the girls took me to a Peter Mulvey concert on friday for an early bday. i don't think the evening could have been better had it not been shared with peter, a glass of red wine, and four lovely friends. the whole night was full of the beauty of my life--this life. at almost any concert (his especially) there is inevitably a song that catches my breath as the "aha" song of the night--one that tells a part of my own story or expresses a part of my own heart. friday there were two. one was a new one, Trempealeau (lyrics not released), and the other was Tender Blindspot, appropriate for me and appropriate for winter:
It's cold, but at least the sun is out
Her breath hangs glowing in the air
She's standing at the car with the key in her hand
Like a sleeper coming back from somewhere
All at once, the weight has lifted
Forgotten the weeping all last night
She's wearing a frown borrowed from her father
Her head is tilted a little to the right
And it's just your tender blindspot
Not the ruination of your soul
As long as trees are skying
Tears are weeping seas to make us whole
Still you wonder why you're aching
Why you should go on, you just don't know
But it's just your tender blindspot
From that tender blindspot you must go
The days are short and grey
It's the hardest time of year
And she must have missed the roadsign that said
"From now on, nothing will be clear"
And the whole day is calling
But she is frozen to the ground
There's something in the silence
There is something waiting to be found
And it's just your tender blindspot
Not the ruination of your soul
As long as trees are skying
Tears are weeping seas to make us whole
Still you wonder why you're aching
Why you should go on, you just don't know
But it's just your tender blindspot
From that tender blindspot you must go
And the morning dove is clinging
To the powerlines above
And time is hanging frozen
In its grace and pain and love
Her breath hangs glowing in the air
She's standing at the car with the key in her hand
Like a sleeper coming back from somewhere
All at once, the weight has lifted
Forgotten the weeping all last night
She's wearing a frown borrowed from her father
Her head is tilted a little to the right
And it's just your tender blindspot
Not the ruination of your soul
As long as trees are skying
Tears are weeping seas to make us whole
Still you wonder why you're aching
Why you should go on, you just don't know
But it's just your tender blindspot
From that tender blindspot you must go
The days are short and grey
It's the hardest time of year
And she must have missed the roadsign that said
"From now on, nothing will be clear"
And the whole day is calling
But she is frozen to the ground
There's something in the silence
There is something waiting to be found
And it's just your tender blindspot
Not the ruination of your soul
As long as trees are skying
Tears are weeping seas to make us whole
Still you wonder why you're aching
Why you should go on, you just don't know
But it's just your tender blindspot
From that tender blindspot you must go
And the morning dove is clinging
To the powerlines above
And time is hanging frozen
In its grace and pain and love
4 comments:
It is interesting. I remember thinking I was getting old at 24. That is how old I was when I got married.You just think you are old. Try being 80 plus. Then you will know you are old.
Me
haha. i guess perspective is everything, huh? i miss you!!
Where exactly did you say you would be turning 24? I sort of forget.
with you!!! in hungary!!!
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