Whispers of Spring

I remember the first time it occurred to me that I was not paying attention to life; that I was, and had been, blithely sauntering past myriads of choice points along the trail I trod, any one of which, had they been chosen, would have led to a very different life from the one I was currently clothed in. This understanding came with a shocking flash during a student performance at Interlochen, a summer music camp where my 8 year old daughter was staying, playing viola, and hopefully enjoying herself. On that particular muggy afternoon, from a seat in the darkened concert hall, I listened to these amazing kids play at a level comparable to a small city orchestra, and realized, with dismay, I would never play an instrument that well; that the door of musical excellence was shut to me forever. And sitting there, in my late 30s, I knew, I would never again have the possibility of being able to play an instrument in a professional orchestra, even if I wanted to, The key word in all this emotional mish mash is the word - possible. With a clarity that physically hurt, I knew the time available for long years of sometimes arduous training no longer existed for me, and the neural plasticity of youth allowing perfection to be developed was gone forever. Somewhere along the way, completely unnoticed by me, I had passed this choice, and just as unnoticed, the door had gently, silently closed - forever.

Now, perhaps this is an unremarkable occurrence for most folks; to find shut doors in their lives, but for me, at that moment, sitting in that auditorium, it came as an very unpleasant jolt. For until that moment's awakening, I had been operating under the assumption that I could do anything, and more importantly, that there was enough time to do everything. Strings, woodwinds and percussion faded out of existence as I entered backwards time and sat there seeing the now many portals closed to me. One was marked Professional Ballet, another Veterinary School, and yet another, Olympic diver. These closed entrances passed back along the corridor of time and faded over the horizon. Some of these were firmly shut, mostly those that required years of dedication to the perfecting of some physical activity. Other doors had simply become impractical and would only become more so with each passing year, doors that led to returning to school to enter another 12 years or more of specialized learning, such as those needed to become a neurosurgeon, or astrophysicist.

I remember the tremendous wave of grief that washed over me as I took in, not so much the actual loss of these careers, but of the narrowing of life this loss of possibility seemed to indicate. I grieved as if someone had died. But why? I hadn't been unhappy not being and doing everything up until this point. In fact I had been busy fulfilling and being fulfilled by the path I had chosen. Here I was, in this concert seat, a University Professor in Psychology, a researcher in Bi-polar Disorder, and a healer in the school of Transpersonal Psychotherapy. I was also a daughter, a wife, a mother, and a friend to others as well. So what was this grief?

Over the next several years I was to revisit this mourning many times and was plagued incessantly with questions about why did I choose the path I did. It was not like I was one of those folks who had a burning passion, a calling to some way of being in the world. Rather, I was a generalist, interested in most everything, and because of that, often feeling pulled in a million different directions at the same time by all these interests. Was that it? Did I mourn thinking perhaps I had missed the one perfect path to Nirvana? Or was I aggrieved because Universe was saying No to me and I have never developed a liking for that word?

A man said to the universe:


"Sir I exist!"


"However," replied the universe,"

The fact has not created in me


A sense of obligation."

Stephan Crane

And where did this notion come from that I could do anything anyway? I have never been able to find a simple answer to that question. Perhaps it is genetics, or karma, or learning, or all of these and everything else that makes up one's life. People have accused me in the past (and in the present as well), of being a pollyanna because of this bone deep attitude, or worse, of being arrogant, and at different times, I have bought into their accusations. All I know is that after all these years, ( I am now 63), I still have this fundamental attitude about life; all things are possible, and for this, I am finally, profoundly grateful.

After that summer concert in Interlochen, months, and then years, passed as I sat with these questions.  Finally, I began to ask about what were the most important gifts that I had received from the path I was walking, and rather belatedly, I began to comprehend that the gifts that made my life rich, had absolutely nothing to do with the roles I played in life, but rather, were gifts I could have, and would have, been gifted with, in any role a human might choose. The gifts I had received from life came from learning about our human condition. I had learned, and was still learning, about pain, patience, acceptance, and joy. I had been taught by others about sharing, giving, forgiving, and perseverance. Failure had given tough lessons leading to confidence, caring, and empathy. Success had brought painful homework on pride and avarice, as well as learning how to accept a compliment. The list of life gifts is endless, and surprisingly these gifts have had little to do with any choice I ever made or left unmade.

There is a quote attributed to John Lennon that says:

“Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans”

What else is there to say?

:)