Moo

People say “rut” like it’s a bad thing. I say when I want a change I’ll go clockwise around the post instead of counter-clockwise. That hasn’t happened yet.

I saw a friend I haven’t seen or spoken to in thirty (yes, 30) years. Don’t say “Oh, Carole, I wasn’t even born then.” I know that. That’s part of why I’m ruminating now. (Get it? It’s a ruminant callback! I crack me up.)

Here’s my point, thou recalcitrant child. When I look back at a lifetime of adventure, misadventure, pratfalls and ultimate calm, there really isn’t much to say about it. I know because I didn’t say much. A few highlights relevant to my current work, but nothing else. No mention of 18 years going to Campo, nothing about my time at the dojo. About experiences and studies that comprise my identity and inform my daily life – zip, bubkes, nada.

I’ve forgotten things that mattered then. I’ve forgotten people I cared about, traumas from which I probably still bear the scars. I’ve built a life I love, with people who matter now. Like you. And no, this isn’t an “I love you, man” moment. This is a pep talk. Because you might not yet be where I am, and I want you to know that all the depression and angst and freak-out-level stress has a goal, and it’s one that can be reached. Happiness exists and you can have your share. Believe me, I am knocking on wood for both our sakes.