Decisions.
They bombard us on all sides. They sneak up on us from behind. They look us boldly in the eyes. They whisper in our ears. They scream in our faces. They pull our hair out. They block our paths. They open doors. They pave our way before us. They are no respecter of persons. They are equal opportunity employers--And they terrify me most days.
I have been faced with many big decisions of recent days...coming at me in rapid succession...beckoning me to begin...choosing.
During this time of transition, I have been reading Elizabeth Gilbert's newest book, the follow-up of her bestseller EAT PRAY LOVE, entitled COMMITTED. One of its passages directly spoke to my soul...I remember stumbling across it and reveling in the warmth of fellowship...sensing that I was not alone. The following words fed my fearful soul and provided the satiety of solidarity...being together in the triumphs of made choices, as well as the trials of timidity in approaching them.
She writes that, "the problem, simply put, is that we cannot choose everything simultaneously. So we live in danger of becoming paralyzed by indecision, terrified that every choice might be the wrong choice...{}....Equally disquieting are the times when we DO make a choice, only to later feel as though we have murdered some other aspect of our being by settling on one single concrete decision. By choosing Door Number Three, we fear we have killed off a different--but equally critical--piece of our soul that could only have been made manifest by walking through Door Number One or Door Number Two. "
I understand far too well what it feels to look at myself in the mirror and tangibly sense the dichotomy of my emotional state. I am an emotional-thinker, a woman-child, a scared lion, a brave mouse. With all of these "pieces" of me...I wonder which decision(s) are good, best and right. I feel it not fair to be forced to choose between them. In the midst of my personal pity party, I am rudely interrupted by an astounding realization which rocks my world...the fact alone that I have options...freedoms, and chances in this gift called life...is the answer.
Again, as I lift my face to the unknown ahead, I feel the fragile balance of life's fluidity assuring me, and whispering in my ear: "Let it Flow"~
4 comments:
Andy Beth,
I am so moved by this passage for so many reasons! (And I think you know all of them without my having to state them here.) This is good stuff. Good, good stuff.
Life is good. :)
Dr. P
This reminds me of Esther Greenwood from The Bell Jar:
"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."
I'm confronting similar yet much more complex issue. I just want to say it's still fortunate that choices are there for you to make; what's scary is when you are out of them. Life IS about choices, and I do wish you luck.
Anne, THE BELL JAR is one of my favorite books. Sylvia Plath has such a raw and honest vulnerability in her writing. I remember reading that exact passage, and how it resonated so much within me during that specific season of my life.
I ached for the ability to articulate such truth as Plath did...who hasn't felt the gripping fear as they stare, overwhelmed, at all the figs, only to sit helplessly by as they one by one are no longer "edible". Thank you for this, I feel you~
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