Whatever’s next
The lovely Sheepscot River, from a bus.
Rolling past the coastal marshes on a northbound train on the last day of August felt like seeing the summer fade away in realtime.
How could it be over?
The funny thing is, it’s been “over” in some parts of the country for a month. The kids went back to school in Atlanta on August 1, and that’s when I would have returned to school, too — if I were still teaching.
When is summer over? When the kids go back to school? When my routine changes? When the weather cools? When the equinox happens?
The truth is, it doesn’t really matter. I’m a grownup now, free to create and recreate my own life as many times as necessary, independent of the academic calendar. And as the owner of my own business, I can tinker with my own schedule until it suits me.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, steeped as I am in the rhythms of school. As a kid, it felt like so much of life was waiting: for the weekend, for vacation, for summertime. And then I perpetuated the same pattern as a teacher. I have to consciously work not to do this.
And still, I find myself wondering what’s next. Without the predictability of school, I’m alert to subtler changes: the start of a new project, the end of a contract, the resolution of a nagging question. I do get to choose what I do now, but I don’t get to decide the outcome. Thus, there is a lot of uncertainty, like I’m in the first third of an episode of a television show that’s just introduced its C plot.
The unpredictability keeps life interesting — a lot more interesting than it was when I was a kid in school. There are many variables, many possible directions, and far more moving parts. I mostly tend to think that I’ll be happy with whatever’s next and I don’t need to overthink it.
And yet, in the moments when I’m not feeling so sanguine, I do overthink it. It’s easy to second-guess myself. I don’t believe in destiny, so why am I so sure that the thing I’m trying to do will work out? How do I know that I’m making a valuable contribution to the lives of others and not just adding noise?
And what if I go so far down a particular road that I find myself without choices, and unable to turn back?
I know better than to try to answer these questions directly. Instead, I have a snack. I get a good night’s sleep or two. I tidy up the house and reply to messages in my inbox. And I create something: I write, I sing, I record. And somewhere in there, I get back the confidence to keep going, even when I’m not sure exactly where I’m going.
The first of the month doesn’t matter, unless I want it to. And I don’t have to romanticize the change of the seasons and reflect on its meaning in my life. I don’t have to come up with some grand vision for my next chapter if I’m not ready to do that yet. Nobody is waiting for that. Nobody asked for that. My only responsibility is to follow through on the commitments I’ve made.
This is a theme I’ve been playing with for several months. I’m not in the same place in my life as I was a few months ago, but I’m saying more or less the same thing because I still can only see just so far ahead. And sometimes that bothers me, and sometimes it doesn’t.
Despite the fact that I am not doing anything wildly new, I’m in transition. That’s fascinating and frustrating. I want to see how the story ends. I’ll just continue rolling along, enjoying the changing landscape and preparing for whatever’s next. And then, I’ll do the same thing tomorrow.
