Brilliant Ben. I feel a strange, satisfied melancholy in this one. (Yes, satisfied and melancholy can live beautifully alongside one another in my book!) No doubt a perspective any deep thinker/feeler in his third act might have as they narrate themselves. This reminded me of something I read the other day, a circulating social media inquiry about inviting our younger selves to coffee and asking how they’d feel about their future self. The author of this piece said their younger self wouldn’t like who they’ve become, probably be overwhelmingly disappointed. And they were ok with that—I nod in agreement. Sure, maybe our third act isn’t as shiny and expansive and carpe diem’ed as our young selves dreamed, but they didn’t have the wisdom yet to know just how sweet and memorable and fulfilling the present can be.
Thanks, Kimberly. It is an interesting idea to have a conversation with your past or future self. How much do we really change over time? Would we make the same choices again. I was thinking about all this when I wrote this piece. If I could have a conversation with my 40-year-old self on a park bench, I seriously doubt he would be able to believe the life I have now.
From a person whose age can only just still be placed in the classification of 'middle age' I say this Ben, it is hard to bury those parts of us from the past that were less than we had expected when building a life was our 'soul' aim and yet harder still to be reconstructed at a stage when we thought the scaffolding to be safe. Your story reflects every disappointment, hope and fear so many have felt and been unable to express because yes, "We are, all of us, unreliable narrators". And, yes, "the only thing worse than being bored was being boring."
Your story feels very poignant, very honest and wistful too... as if there is always a road yet to discover even if it is not quite apparent yet.
Brilliant Ben. I feel a strange, satisfied melancholy in this one. (Yes, satisfied and melancholy can live beautifully alongside one another in my book!) No doubt a perspective any deep thinker/feeler in his third act might have as they narrate themselves. This reminded me of something I read the other day, a circulating social media inquiry about inviting our younger selves to coffee and asking how they’d feel about their future self. The author of this piece said their younger self wouldn’t like who they’ve become, probably be overwhelmingly disappointed. And they were ok with that—I nod in agreement. Sure, maybe our third act isn’t as shiny and expansive and carpe diem’ed as our young selves dreamed, but they didn’t have the wisdom yet to know just how sweet and memorable and fulfilling the present can be.
Thanks, Kimberly. It is an interesting idea to have a conversation with your past or future self. How much do we really change over time? Would we make the same choices again. I was thinking about all this when I wrote this piece. If I could have a conversation with my 40-year-old self on a park bench, I seriously doubt he would be able to believe the life I have now.
From a person whose age can only just still be placed in the classification of 'middle age' I say this Ben, it is hard to bury those parts of us from the past that were less than we had expected when building a life was our 'soul' aim and yet harder still to be reconstructed at a stage when we thought the scaffolding to be safe. Your story reflects every disappointment, hope and fear so many have felt and been unable to express because yes, "We are, all of us, unreliable narrators". And, yes, "the only thing worse than being bored was being boring."
Your story feels very poignant, very honest and wistful too... as if there is always a road yet to discover even if it is not quite apparent yet.
Thank you, Susie. What you say is truly insightful which is not at all surprising coming from you.
Wonderful, Ben. An example of how a small piece can encompass so much.
Thanks, Holly. These pieces are really an exercise in reduction.