Disclaimer: Because my
son more or less demanded
that I stop using him and
his life as material for my
column back when he was
12 or 13, I want to make it
perfectly clear to all my
readers (and any legal professionals
who are now retained
or may be retained
at some future time by
aforementioned son) that
this column is not about
him. It’s about me. The fact
that he happened to turn
21 on Saturday is mere coincidence.
So help me God.
Whenever I’m feeling
uncertain or like I may be
listing a bit off course, I like
to do this exercise that I
once heard Helen Gurley
Brown describe.
Imagine having tea or
coffee with your older, wiser,
more confident self.
What would she say? What
advice would she give?
Would she think you’re
worrying over all the right
things? Would she illuminate
a better way of getting
where you want to go? How
has her journey been different
(and richer?) than the
one you can currently imagine?
I know, it sounds hokey.
And I don’t believe that this
exercise has any kind of
magical properties. It’s just
a way to check in with myself
and articulate to myself
what I want and where I
might shift gears.
If only it were possible to
really jump into a time machine
and pour your younger
self a nice cup of tea and
experience. Putting aside
for just a moment the reality
that, at 21, I considered
myself too savvy and together
to have listened to
anyone’s wisdom, even my
own, here’s what I wish I
could go back and impart:
Today is ``some day’’ - as
in the mythical future date
when all conditions are perfectly
aligned to allow you
to pursue Big Scary
Dreams. When you say,
``Some day, I want to spend
s summer in Italy,’’ what
you really mean is, ``Since
I’m not going to figure out a
plan of action to make
something like that happen,
I think I’ll just feel inordinately
wistful for the
next 20 years every time I
watch a film set in Italy.’’
You don’t have to have a
fool-proof plan for the future.
If you keep waiting for
the plan to seem foolproof,
you’ll lose valuable time
that you could be using to
do things like figure out
how to take a trip to Italy
or learn how to paint.
It’s no disgrace to be less
than a wunderkind. Instead
of thinking of Mary Shelley
writing ``Frankenstein’’
when she was 19, think of
Frank McCourt, who spent
his career teaching high
school students, then wrote
``Angela’s Ashes’’ and won a
Pulitzer Prize after age 65.
You can spend years in
passive introspection and
self-reflection in hopes of
solving your problems and
discovering yourself. Or
you can spend hours actively
working to apply whatever
time, talents and resources
you have to solving
someone else’s problems,
and end up creating yourself
in the process.
You don’t always have to
be so savvy and together.
You’re the only one who’s
constantly watching to see
if you’ve made a mistake.
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
still probably wouldn’t
listen to her time-traveling
self, but that makes life
more interesting. You can
connect with her at www.
moremindfulfamily.wordpress.
com.
This Wonderful Life
November 19, 2009
This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me
- This Wonderful Life
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- This Wonderful Life: I can say No, but I prefer Yes If popular culture is any indication, it seems women suffer from an epidemic inability to refuse additional responsibilities. Magazines, self-help books and therapists nationwide offer heaps of advice on how to assert oneself, draw boundaries and generally say No when asked to sign on for those things for which we have little time and less interest.
- This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me Disclaimer: Because my son more or less demanded that I stop using him and his life as material for my column back when he was 12 or 13, I want to make it perfectly clear to all my readers (and any legal professionals who are now retained or may be retained at some future time by aforementioned son) that this column is not about him. It’s about me. The fact that he happened to turn 21 on Saturday is mere coincidence. So help me God.
- This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches Every morning, Bee and I stand at the end of the driveway waiting for her bus and we look up into the branches of the elm tree that arches over the drive.
- This Wonderful Life: To Posey on her fourth So here we are, on the other side of 3-years-old, and it seems we both survived it intact. It wasn’t easy, but perhaps it made us both stronger.
- This Wonderful Life: A Posey by any other name... A few weeks ago, Posey gave us all new names. Or, to be more accurate, Posey gave us all one new name. Rose.
- This Wonderful Life: Are pork chops really that good? If it seems unlikely for a vegetarian (that would be me) to own a couple of table- bound pigs, it probably seems downright absurd that their names should be Tender and Delicious.
- This Wonderful Life: I sssssseeeeeee you there The first thing you should know is that I used to suffer from a snake phobia. The operative word there is phobia. It wasn’t just a matter of disliking snakes. It wasn’t a fear of being bitten. It wasn’t a simple reluctance to touch their impossibly dry, nimble bodies.
- This Wonderful Life: What’s so funny? My kids, I hope In my experience as a three-time parent, there is something absolutely, spiritually magical about the first time your child cracks a joke.
- This Wonderful Life: Who are these little girls? There are two children in my house who bear a striking resemblance to my daughters. They are adorable, smart and energetic.
- This Wonderful Life: A harvest that’s good for the soul Signs of harvest are all around. The afternoon sun glows amber over the fields and the farm stands are filled to overflowing with vegetables and fruit. We’re lucky to live in a place where we can have such an immediate connection to the food we eat.
- More This Wonderful Life Headlines
