There are a number of things in life which seem to resist being held tightly. In a surprising variety of situations I find myself waxing poetic about one of my favorite metaphors for this sort of thing; the image of a man trying to cling tightly to a wet bar of soap. Inevitably, it will shoot out from his grasp.
The Church uses the language of open-handedness to express the proper posture we should take towards all facets of our lives. I am a Christian. I believe in the Gospel of Jesus. And I am often terrible at holding things with open hands. By default I am usually clinging to something - hope, joy, sorrow, bitterness - and I don’t think I am alone in that. For my entire life I’ve been trying to overcome my one-track-mind, and there are many things I remember my clenched fists unwillingly being pried away from. Thankfully I can observe great improvements in my ability to let things go, and, consequently, in my mood and general stress level.
Friendships and other relationships, platonic and romantic, are a good example of something that fits the “bar of soap” metaphor. Except some relationships occupy such a prominent place in our lives that they become more like a greased watermelon than a bar of ivory soap. This example is quite pertinent to my own life situation at the time of writing this. I will be graduating college in less than 40 days and entering into a time of considerable flux spanning most areas of my life, including my many friendships. I am tempted in moments like this to cling ever tighter to things that I wish could be permanent. Indeed, I feel myself reaching for this sense of permanence in ways that I cannot remember having done before, and I am already beginning to grieve the end of a season. And it isn’t just me. I observe the same pattern of behavior in numerous people around me at this strange time of great change and uncertainty.
I take, for instance, my roommate. We have been friends since middle school. More than that, he is probably the first person in my life who became like a brother as the years went by. People actually ask if we are twins sometimes. Anyway, his parents will probably sit next to my mom at my wedding if ever I am married, we have now lived together for close to three years, we own a cat… I think in some states we could legally file for domestic partnership. And in six months we will both be moving on and moving out, possibly to different sides of the country. It’s an odd feeling even now, knowing that the time is winding down. On the one hand I am excited for whatever comes next, but on the other hand I am afraid of losing the near-daily connection I have with my roommate. I am already saddened a bit by the thought of deciding who gets the cat, and am frustrated by the sheer number of knicknacks we have accumulated and will have to be reckoned with in the move. Above all that though, I am genuinely a bit fearful about undergoing the inevitable separation.
I have survived each one that I have been through so far, siblings moving to college and so forth, but with my actual kin I have always sensed an implicit connectedness. In friendships the feeling is somewhat different. The friends I feel bound to most closely really didn’t start as anything special, just proximal characters in my life, but the feeling of mild dread I am experiencing is new, and I relate to the friends around me, both older and younger, who have expressed everything from fear to frustration to anger at the changing circumstances.
So what is anybody to do about things of this nature? About the inescapable changing of the seasons of life? To that I can supply at least a couple quotes from those titans of intellectual progress whose shoulders I stand upon;
“Carpe Diem” Horace 23 B.C.
“Just keep swimming” Dory 2003 A.D.
Oh how I wish that certain things would never change! All humanity shares this wish yet it is outside of our power to accomplish. I think we share a fundamental understanding of this, yet so often we try to cling to the greased watermelon - whatever it happens to be in our situation.
The second part of that Horace quote is often omitted, all respect to Robin Williams, but it speaks to the futility of clinging and adds some nuance to the statement. Properly rendered, the quote reads, “Seize (literally, pluck) the day, trusting as little as possible in the future.” It starts to sound a lot more open-handed when you read it like that. What if this became my attitude towards each new day of my life? It is one that I am trying to adopt, especially given the many changes I expect to come very soon. What if in the face of all this - the job search, the dwindling lease agreement, the growing distance between friends, the maddening days of wait-and-see - I could pluck each day as it bloomed before me, and delight in it from sunrise to sunset. I think my quality of life might improve.
Now, to all my friends who are struggling in this season, and just as much to remind myself, we must continue living in the present moment; neither dwelling on the past and wishing to return to the good old days, nor wishing and dreaming about a future that isn't ripe for the taking yet. Trying desperately to keep things as they are, or were, is more than one person can bear. It is the problem of the bar soap, and life will continue to happen one day at a time regardless of any herculean effort to stop it in its tracks.
The active part of seize the day is beautifully embodied by Dory, the little blue fish that could. She has a short memory, a big heart, and a strange determination to move forward. I am increasingly convinced that the Dory method is a fair model for life. Really, keeping-on keeping-on is about the best any of us can do. Times change, sometimes all at once, other times gradually, but our illusion that everything will be just as it ought to be is inevitably shattered by either time or tragedy. It is a difficult realization, but I firmly believe that we do more to contribute to our families, our friendships, even our obligations, by simply embracing what each day has to offer.
So I must accept that very soon the lease will end, the boxes will be packed, the knicknacks sorted out, and the cat re-homed. This will come no matter how tightly I cling to certain parts of my current life - glorious bachelorhood - and I and my roommate will go on with our lives. If I’m honest with myself, I want us both to keep moving forward. I want to see him succeed in grad school, and I want to start working on building my life. I am confident that our friendship will last, but it will change. And that’s the beauty of it. All of it. The fact that all things on this side of heaven are temporary gives them weight and urgency and uncertainty.
We just have to take each day as it comes, holding on to everything with open hands.
