It’s sort of funny how relative time is. How elastic it all is. I really wish I understood string theory and quantum physics and the theory of relativity better. Because I think there’s a lot of stuff there that really is in line with all of the things I believe about metaphysics and life and reincarnation and astral planes and how perfect this universe is. How mysterious it all is.
But for now, i just know that time feels like it flies by faster and faster every year. That blocks of six months go by without even having given much acknowledgement (1), and people are growing older without my permission. On the contrary, I look at the idea of 2012 and the fact that I’ll be 38 in a few months, and I realize I’m living in a time that is now beyond when I previously could have even understood or imagined.
There were the days of figuring out how old I was going to be in 1999, to figure out what my life would be like when we’d all reach the futuristic world that Prince sang to us about (25 years old). There were the days of calculating when I would turn 18 (1992) and then, the invincible, untouchable age of 21 (1995). There was the exciting precipice of the millenium with all of its requisite promise and danger (26). I suppose I might have vaguely considered 30 once I got to my mid-20s (2004). But anything past that didn’t exist. Honestly, it just didn’t.
But here I am, in the year 2012, 37 years old, and headed for 38 in a jiffy. In 10 days, I’ll have been sober for 10 years and that alone is a miracle and something that seems absolutely incomprehensible to me. To the smussyolay of 21, to the smussyolay of 27. To any smussyolay. I’m living in times that were absolutely unforeseen. Times that obviously didn’t exist 10 or 20 years ago, but didn’t even exist in the reaches of my mind. My imagination hadn’t even thought to imagine that far yet.
And yet, when my imagination *did* imagine, I had imagined having a college degree and having traveled the world and having been married by now. Living a life more well established, more accomplished, more something to have been proud of. Instead, I have a cat and debt and nothing so solid as a piece of paper to proclaim that I’ve done anything or that I’m smart enough to have pulled off a collection of small accomplishments declaring me worthy of a bachelor’s degree. All of these things are wildly disappointing and send me quickly in to a swirling shame spiral, to be sure. But it seems a desperately pessimistic way to start the new year, right?
If nothing, I’ve always tried to remain truthful here, so I would have been remiss to leave that out. But I don’t want to end this post there. I want to remind anyone who is reading (you), and primarily the one who is writing (me), that I believe in divine providence. Not predestination, but divine providence. That idea that we’re all exactly where we’re supposed to be right now. That things are going along as planned. That everything is working out all right. That God or god or goddess or the Creative Intelligence or Spirit of the Universe is benevolent and loves us all, regardless of how and where and why we see ourselves. That we’re perfect and whole and just right in that entity’s eyes. It’s so hard for me to truly understand, and I can believe it so much more for you than for me. But I’ll say it just to say it, just so we remember that it really all is good. It’s all working out fine.
More Avetts, yeah?
(1) This is even more pronounced in coffee club, where people you see at their first time around all of a sudden are announcing that they’ve been there for three months, six months, a year. How is that possible? Wasn’t it just yester … oh, never mind. I guess it’s just happening.