I always thought growing up would take forever. You know, I imagined that all knowledge would suddenly jam itself into my brain at the age of 95. Or, that it would occur each decade or so. At the age of 20, I will have Maturity. At 30, I will have Worldly Wisdom. At 40, I will have Sympathy. At 50, I will have Menopause, etc, etc. However, it seems life appreciates small, subtle increments. Little bits of wisdom at a time. I have always said, "Learn something new every day." But I always say that when I'm told something completely uninteresting, entirely factual, and of little consequence. Furthermore, I have never liked the idea of learning from other people's mistakes. I grew up reading books about other people's sins and every time they explained how they were wrong, I think, "You just didn't do wrong the right way." Plus, there are some things that you just shouldn't try to explain and compartmentalize into proverbs and ideals. You just view them. Experience them. You can ponder, and analyze, but never come to a conclusion. Never attach a word or a label. It just is.
Maybe I am wrong. Maybe each new experience needs an organized space in your mind. The Good, The Bad, The Ugly. Yet when we live in a society that is constantly rushing past and never stopping to ask, "why?" is it really plausible to expect to understand everything? Life is like a plotless, silent movie. Compilations of short clips, some warped, some clear, and some more poignant than others. Perhaps through the someone else's eye the scenes might be interepeted differently. Which is why I will never go to a psychiatrist unless I want to be called crazy. Yet I have convictions. I will never go into the woods to find myself. I wouldn't go to a convent either. The only thing I'd ever find in those two places are poison ivy and scratchy clothing. The more I see of this world, the more I realize how little I know. So, is solitude and isolation really the solution to ignorance? Of course, "finding yourself" is basically a lost cause. I'm almost positive it never happens. Even on your deathbed, won't you lay there thinking about everything you never did or the things you rather wish you hadn't? Yet there is some comfort in being young. Being 19 is both blissful and chaotic. There is this constant onslaught of information and problems, but I'm still a fresh-faced kid. I still have a chance at life, at change. I look back at the past year and it is overwhelming to see how much I've learned. Can it be I have found optimism? As frightening as the future may seem sometimes, I look forward to progressing and seeing life in a new way as each day passes.
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I think times of upheaval are confusing for everyone. My last semester of college, I was confident that I had reached the peak of my intellectual growth, that I had become an intelligent, analytical, big-picture thinker, able to draw cross-disciplinary connections like nobody's business.
ReplyDeleteI knew all about the history of humanity, the evolution of human consciousness and the history and philosophy of science. I could tell you exactly why people declare jihad, go to war, seek power, subjugate women, get depressed, and believe Republican scare tactics. "Welp," I declared. "I'm done learning. I know everything."
Then, BAM, here I am living alone in they city, working an incredibly stressful job, no friends, no family close by, no idea how to do this job, and I realize for practical, immediate purposes all my college-acquired knowledge is basically worthless. I don't know how to network, find jobs, find friends, or how to act around my many bosses in the many confusing gradations of power in my job.
I don't know how to plan for the rest of my life, what field to go to graduate school for, how to apply, or who to ask for recommendations. So now I'm back to knowing nothing. Irony is a cruel mistress!