“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.” —Gilda Radnor
I view a lot of things much differently today than I did 40 or 30–or even 10–years ago. Take for example, the matter of “black and white.” As far as I am now concerned, it’s either a classic you can’t go wrong color combo or a clickable photoshop selection. Fabulous as a filter for selfies and hands down the best choice for portrait photographs, B & W fails miserably, however, as a mindset option for life. Shades of gray, ladies, it’s all shades of gray—and open for revision and addition.
After all, there can be neither growth nor improvement without the element of change. Even our venerable Bill of Rights is, in essence, a compilation of changes, clarifications and compromises made to the Constitution in order to get 2/3 of the original 13 states to ratify and implement the damn thing as the law of the land. BTW, those changes are called “amendments.” In the 227 years since I-X’s unanimous ratification, there have been 17 more, with 1992 being the last time this country could agree on anything enough in order to add one. Just saying. (And in case the question should come up on Jeopardy.)
So . . . enough with the soapbox/civics lesson and back to me. (Remember, my blog=my rant.) Over the decades, my “laws” have been amended, too. Rules I was reared to hold as hard and fast have become rather like my thighs and ass (softer and a whole lot less firm). Boxes are boring, and labels have lost luster. Walking the straight and narrow appears a dull path. Push the envelope, break the mold, step outside the box and color outside the lines have become preferable courses of action and chosen avenues of pursuit. Of late, one of my favorite Facebook memes? “Well-behaved women have rarely changed history.” Just saying.
Gilda was right. Life is change. Among the multitude occurring as I’ve gotten older is an unexpected one. I have begun to hear clearly my own inner voice. It speaks not in words, but rather in a powerful sense of knowing that isn’t knowing. It’s a sentient certainty that may defy logic, common sense and even the advice of caring friends—sometimes (and in all honesty) to my detriment. And yet never to my growth. Call it gut instinct, if you will . . . this sounding of my soul. And truth be told, it is neither the only–nor the loudest– voice I hear. That dubious distinction belongs to the voice of reason. A powerful set of pipes on that one! And yet, despite its forceful volume and often strident tones, reason is rarely the voice I heed. I don’t know why. Maybe because life is so much shorter now that risk carries less fear than when I was younger? Or is it because my faith in “all happens to a purpose” has with age become stronger. (Not to mention the fact, that the Universe’s ironclad irony steps in regularly these days to remind me that “meant to be” will be.)
They say with age comes wisdom. I don’t know that is necessarily true. I do know it sure as hell gifts you with something called “perspective.” Defined as a point of view, (meaning by definition one’s view will change depending upon where one stands), it’s a great analogy for life—which is always altered by circumstance. The way I figure, perspective allows once rigid views and hard rules to soften and loosen. And why not? These days everything else has. And BTW, the ads for Crepe Erase . . . they lie. Just saying.