Friday, May 4, 2018

First Days of My Thirties


Sunlight streamed through the living room window, gleaming off the hardwood floors and whitewashed walls. I reflected, not for the first time, that the navy-blue curtains had been an excellent choice for the house's color scheme, and they shone a rich shade in the brilliant light of a springtime Alaska afternoon. The sun is up here now until about 11:30 at night, so at midday we're treated to some truly spectacular brightness when there isn't cloud cover.

"Sometimes I feel like being out here has made me a little bit weird," I confided to Wise Woman, who was seated across from me in the leather armchair and sipping a mug of steaming coffee.

"Yeah," she smiled winsomely. "You get too used to being alone. Sometimes I'll find myself being impatient with people. Someone will be talking to me after work and I'm standing there thinking, 'Can you please shut the hell up so I can go home and do nothing?' And then I stop and tell myself: 'People first, Wise Woman. People first.'"


The approach of my thirtieth birthday was an emotional catalyst in many ways. It capped a year, marked officially on March 2, filled with changes and growth and a surprising amount of self-discovery. In this last fourteen months I've felt, really for the first time, that I'm actually able to explore who I am and what my beliefs and priorities are. A lot of those questions got shunted down the line for later attention when I was hunkered in survival mode during most of my twenties, but finding myself alone on the tundra with plenty of time and no immediate crises opened the door to some unexpected conclusions. 

As that April 10 ticked closer and closer, as 29 ebbed and 30 advanced and I looked back on the time passed and the manner in which I'd passed it, one inescapable thought recurred again and again and again.

I am going to die. 

In a concrete, non-abstract way, I am going to depart this Earth following a finite amount of time, and then my days will be done. Then there will be no more sunrises. 

I can't go so far as to say that thirty years has flown by, but ten sure did. And now I realize, in a way I never did before, that my day is not endless. I can see the continuum of my life the way one sees a weekend, or a long summer holiday you only just began, except now it's almost the Fourth of July and it hits you with a start that you're nearly a month into the thing. Life is like that. Like a week or a month or a vacation. At some point the time is up.


"I'm thirty years old," I said. "And I've been thinking, 'Hmm, Grand Pa Our Family lived into his seventies. My mother's parents both lived into their eighties. Grand Ma Normal Family is still around and she's 75.' I can probably count on hitting eighty. But even if I'm lucky and with medical advances and everything I make it to ninety, I'm still a third of the way through this thing. I've actually used up a good chunk of this time."

"Well," my 22-year-old brother Thomas's gruff voice responded from 4,000 miles away. "That's incredibly depressing."

"No, no it's not," I countered. "Don't you see? I realize the time is limited. So I want to use the time wisely. When I get to that ninety, I want to look back on a life well lived."


What precisely that means has occupied a lot of my time lately. How would one define a well-lived life? For one thing, in the context of a time-limited period whose contents I'll one day have to evaluate, the notion of expending any more effort on the traumas of the past--or, at least, any more than is necessary to move forward in a well-adjusted way--makes absolutely no sense. Those things were terrible enough when they happened, and dwelling on them only stretches out the moments of suffering. And who wants to look back on a life of looking back?

The early part of my existence was very sad, and I spent much of it being unhappy and afraid. But now it's over. Now I want to have fun. Now, as much as I can, I seek joy in life. The things that happened to me are things that happened to me, and need be no more. There's so much in the world to love.

To that end, I've made a few decisions. The first is that, barring something truly unforeseen, I will plan to spend at least one year teaching overseas and will evaluate my options from there. This plane we live on is so broad, and we have so little time to sample its offerings. I could never forgive myself if I didn't go. Which brings me to the second, vaguely radical choice I've settled upon: wherever the going takes me, I will pursue it without fear.


In accordance with this whole imminent-death thing, I sort of dispensed with polite fictions in  conversations I was having with myself, and the clarity that followed illuminated how much I'd been allowing fear to dominate my choices. I very nearly didn't come to Alaska, something that would have been a white-mouthed, shrieking tragedy, and I would have played it safe with a position in Southern State had God not decided to throw me a curve ball (I've never been so happy to not get a job).

Which brings me to God. My conception of God has been completely enveloped in the transformative experience I had as a boy of twelve or thirteen, when I reached out unbidden to that deity and begged him: "Save me." And He did. That sense of liberation, of gratitude, was so profound that somewhere in my mind I had linked any questioning whatsoever of my Judeo-Christian beliefs with a personal betrayal of the God who pulled me up from the pit and brought me here. But the doubts were there anyway, and they were gradually eating away at my faith in a way far more corrosive than outright critical analysis would have done. 

And so I asked Him for a reprieve. Some space for honesty, not that I might turn away from Him, but that I might come back.

"I'm looking for my faith," I told Him. "Please help me find it."


Now I'm looking, with no prior assumptions and no self-judgement. I'm following truth wherever it takes me, and I believe that with an open heart and an active summer reading list I'll just kind of get there when I'm supposed to, and how I'm supposed to. I'm not too far into it yet, but I can tell you one thing: that Buddha guy knew what he was talking about.

My quest for some kind of clearer understanding is emblematic of my approach to a lot of things lately. I'm aware of the agency I have in my life and believe that agency is critical, but beyond doing what I need to best position myself for positive outcomes, I can see much value to letting events unfold as they will. If you're doing what you should, that meandering path seems to get you, one way or another, to good things. Setbacks don't change that. Self-doubt doesn't change that. Temporary flares of anxiety, which I can promise you I still have, don't change that. And in the quest for a partner, for a professional trajectory, for the right place, I'm building the best foundation I can and then seeing where things take me.


The end of the school year fast approaches, and before long I will return to the Lower 48, where the house above awaits me. Teaching work is effectively over--students here check out, and hard, right around the first of April--and after two more weeks of leisurely school sessions we will officially dismiss for break. I'm hanging around in Gori for a week after that to get my house packed and my things shipped to Point Goldlace, where I've accepted a job for the fall. After a week to say goodbye to my neighbor, to this town and to this beautiful house, I'll stop over in Iceport for a few days and then jet back to the East Coast on June 4.

This summer I was fortunate enough to rent a house in Western City, far closer than last summer to the region where I went to college and grad school, so family and friends will abound. I miss my brother Thomas, who will turn 23 in little over a week; and my sister Pie, who will be 15 in June. She's now a teenager whom I feel I don't know, and I'm eager to get reacquainted. My birth-mother, Anne, has been too long unseen, and I've invited her down for a stay. Thirtieth-birthday shenanigans are already in the works with several old and new friends. A visit to a long-time blogging buddy will occur in June, and a beach-side drop-in on a co-worker is set for July. 

It's been such a long winter here in Alaska. I can't wait to feel the sun on my face.

10 comments:

Ed said...

How I define a well-lived life changes as I have gotten older. When I was younger, it was more about accomplishing things. As I got older, that has transitioned more to living without regrets. I am much quicker to forgive these days among other things.

Bijoux said...

My reflections at your age were not about accomplishments, but about the people I had loved and lost (whether through death or distance or just out of touch). Happy birthday and yes to the sun!

mshatch said...

Oh boy, I sure wish I was 30 again, though of course with all the knowledge have now...

Yes. Death is a hard thing to look at at, and harder still to accept. I struggle with it.

You're lucky to have your faith.

nick said...

I'm now 71 but I have no anxieties about death. By and large I've had a good life, a fortunate life, and I'll be ready to go whenever it might be (I have a trace of prostate cancer so that might finish me off eventually). I don't think I've accomplished anything of significance but no matter, my only aim in life has been to enjoy myself and grab whatever opportunities come my way. I've known my partner Jenny for 37 years and having her love and support has enriched my life in many ways.

Liz Hinds said...

I'm in the process of planning a bible study. We've just finished the gospel of Luke - took us 15 months! - and I've been given free rein to do a one-off before the next subject is chosen. I also lead a women's group and recently we looked at the burial of Jesus. I'm going to use that as the base for the study next week. (Bear with me: this is relevant.)
The two men who buried Jesus were possibly both pharisees but certainly members of the anti-Jesus establishment. Jesus' disciples fled when he was crucified. There were probably women at the burial but the work was done by these two 'outsiders'. They had finally dared to believe in Jesus, dared to go against all their years of experience and learning, and the opinions of their fellow leaders.
What I want to say is that we should be prepared to challenge our old ideas, our beliefs, things we've been taught and always believed. The truth will set us free. God doesn't ignore our prayers and he's big enough to take our questions, anger, criticism, whinges, critical analysis.
He loves you and gave you the brain you so clearly have. Use it, seek a deeper truth. You may be surprised where you reconnect with it.

Sage said...

25 was more traumatic for me than 30... Now I'm twice that! Where did the time go? Happy belated birthday.

I am not publishing very often at sagecoveredhills. Check out my more public blog: www.thepulpitandthepen.com

kylie said...

You sound really positive and I like that!
When I was 30. I thought I had accomplished a lot. Now I am 47 I feel like I haven't achieved much more and i have no idea what a well lived life is.
I long ago did a bible study saying that our purpose is to glorify God so I try to do that.

Pixel Peeper said...

Happy belated birthday! Enjoy some sun this summer.

It didn't bother me when I turned 30, or 35, or 40, or 45...and so on.

But when my oldest son turned 35 - now THAT made me stop and think.

Arizaphale said...

Ah. The passing of time and the way it affects your perspective. I remember that sense of needing to accomplish things and not let life pass me by. Happily, I don't think it did. My one regret is my inability to sustain a long term relationship but then I have a beautiful daughter and a mad but lovable family. I count my blessings. Plus I think my cat loves me. Now I think about how I will draw all these threads together towards an end point. Love your spark BB. Keep on keeping on.xxx

naturgesetz said...

Somehow, I missed this when it was new. Too much twitter, too much facebooks, too manny accounts to follow on blogger, and things get missed.

You're wise to stop dwelling on past hurts, especially with forgiveness as part of it, so that old wounds don't just fester in your unconscious. I like your line about not looking back on a life of looking back.

Christianity, with some help from classical philosophy, tells us that the transcendent God is not fully knowable. Therefore all theology is partial understanding. Therefore it is not a problem if we have questions. It's a problem if we think we have all the answers and there's nothing to discuss. Of course, there are some basic points, such as God, creator of the universe loves each of us enough to become human to draw us to himself. But who/what is God? We live in a tension between being and nothingness, between this world/universe we inhabit and the transcendence reality of God. It's uncomfortable, which is why people are tempted to adopt fundamentalism or gnosticism or atheism to resolve the tension. I hope your summer reading and reflection help you deal with your questions.

It's good to have plans and it's good to be flexible when the plans don't work out. It seems that overall you're "in a good place." Congratulations, and have a good summer.