Today's Quote: "Everybody's wondering what and where they all came from. Everybody's worrying 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done. Nobody knows for certain, and so it's all the same to me. I think I'll just let the mystery be." - 10,000 Maniacs
When I was a kid I always imagined that when I grew up I'd have everything figured out. The world would make sense. My questions would all have answers. I believed this, and yet there was a part of me -- a big part of me, as a matter of fact -- that didn't want to grow up. A part of me that feared what I might encounter in the world of adults. I vividly recall my last day of 6th grade. I stood in the doorway of my classroom, last in the line of students, as we waited for the bell to ring. The bell that would declare the end of a school year, the start of summer break. For us 6th graders, it also meant the end of elementary school. In my mind it meant the end of childhood. And I began to mourn the loss of my childhood before that final bell even began to ring. I vividly recall the tears running down my cheeks, hot and wet, and I didn't try to hide them, didn't care what others thought. Mostly the other kids were caught up in the excitement of the last day of school, the desire to get on with summer, and therefore were oblivious to my tears. Those who noticed I was crying, my friends Erin, Tricia, Michelle, simply chalked it up to sadness over the end of a fun school year. And there was some truth to this. Sixth grade had been especially fun. Our teacher, Mrs. Sheally, was creative and energetic. She was kind and knew how to make a person feel special. She allowed free time for independent projects such as composing plays and performing them for the class. She only once betrayed us, by sharing with our parents at conference time that in her opinion we all spent far too much time talking about boys, and suggested that we not be allowed to watch quite so much General Hospital. But one betrayal is not so very much, and was easily forgiven. So indeed I was sad to see that year come to an end, but the grief was about more than that. It was bigger than that. The grief was in anticipation of all that I would inevitably lose as I left childhood behind. All a bit heavy for a 12 year old? Perhaps. But I was insightful and intuitive, even then. In fact, maybe even more then than now. And I knew. I just knew that even if growing up meant figuring everything out and having all the answers, it also meant that I might come face to face with answers I'd sooner not know.
As it turns out, I was both right and wrong. My fears and suspicions about growing up were both justified, and not. As an adult I have figured out a great deal. But not everything. Not even close. Many of my questions have been answered, and it's true that the answers have not always been palatable or reassuring. What I didn't know as a child, what I could never have guessed, because it makes no logical sense, is that with answers only come more questions. As a child I would have found this vexing, but now, as an adult (or a close approximation of one) I am grateful for this. I am glad of this. For while it can be satisfying to have a question answered, a riddle solved, a thirst quenced, a hunger assuaged, one ultimately needs to have some puzzles unresolved. Without mystery, life would really be beside the point. And that's where I am today. I am thirty-eight years of age, which feels incredibly young some days and ridiculously old other days. I feel both wise and foolish. I have more answers than I know what to do with -- more answers than I can shake a stick at, as my grandmother would have said. But for all my answers I have dozens more questions. Look long and hard enough and you'll find Mystery in everything and everyone. At least that's been my experience. Some of these mysteries I will gently ponder, others I will fervently pursue. And still others, many others, perhaps even most others, I will simply let be. And I think I am okay with that. I think, finally, I am okay with simply letting the mystery be.
