I have a cousin who is wise. She is not exactly my cousin... her mother is my dad's first cousin, so she is whatever that makes her to me. She lives in South Carolina and studies the earth and pours her life out for students and climbs rocks. In her last email to me, she said this:
"Sounds like you are coming to a real point of transition in your life. Of course you will be transitioning from Ms. Larson to Mrs. Hueneke, and also the transition into new work in the writing world/new books you may be authoring. But also a transition in setting up how you want to go about your life. You are in between zones right now... the single, fulltime-for-relevant past and the married, writing-as-career future. And this is the time where you can kind of step back and think about what system you want to operate under. You get to renovate your soul, do a spring cleaning. Assess what is functional (like, really functional for who you truly are) in your life and throw out what is not. Might as well make these changes too, while you are changing everything else! ... So yeah. Exciting times. It sounds like your soul is yearning for a change, a makeover in how you do life. And what a perfect time to do that, when its all changing anyways."
I was thinking about these words as I drove to Philip's apartment this morning, the apartment that will be my home in three months. I was thinking about these words and listening to the Garden State soundtrack. In the film, when Natalie Portman's character meets Zach Braff's character, she says, "Listen to this song. It'll change your life." And she puts the headphones on his head, and it is the song, "New Slang," by the Shins. The song, of course, doesn't change his life; his life is already going through massive transition. His mother has died, and he is somewhere between the past and the future, between college and a successful career, between hope and despair. He has broken away from his parents but hasn't started his own family yet. Sound familiar? No wonder we twentysomethings connected so strongly with the movie.
A makeover in how you do life. Think about what system you want to operate under while you are going through change anyway. Throw out what is not functional. I would like to think that is what I did with Relevant. I wasn't running away; it was just not functional for me to continue working there. And it is not functional for me to continue living in my house, with disrespectful people whom I don't enjoy being around. I don't know how long this life of sitting at home by myself on my computer writing about things I only half care about will be functional for me... There is still something in my heart crying out to be brought to life. Part of it is this aching to be Philip's wife at last, to make it official, complete. To make our home together, not have to clean up other people's messes, fall asleep together, create a comfortable and safe space that is ours.
But that is not all of it. Walking away from Relevant was the first step to getting somewhere. Becoming Philip's life partner is the second step. But I know this longing will still be there after these steps have been taken. I don't know what exactly it is pointing to, but I suspect it has something to do with writing things from my heart, with music, with young people. With finding a balance between work and play. With spending enough time in the sun and enough time working hard. With exercising my body and my mind, reading books, stretching and moving my muscles. I believe my life is moving in this direction. I do.
Chelsea, yours is too. As you wait for your husband to return from war and hang in the balance, your next step is coming too. Step one is being together and building your home. Step two is him finishing school. One step at a time, moving in the right direction, toward connection, balance, using your gifts and talents.
And we are okay in the meantime. We really are. We have what we need to survive, even to laugh.
P.S. Friends and readers, read my "cousin's" blog: www.refiningfireburns.blogspot.com.