A Conversation, Expanded

I just want to get back to that place where I was happy again, she says. But what is happiness?

I’ve begun to think happiness isn’t a place we get back to.

I think it is a cloud.

We encounter clouds throughout our lives, but they are always in a different form when we see them.

Sometimes, we don’t recognize them until they are gone.

Other times we’re literally engulfed in clouds.

And often, we only just glimpse them or touch them and they are on their way.

But clouds are constant. They return, over and over.

And I think happiness has more to do with what we are looking for and where we are looking for it, like clouds.

Clouds are up in the sky, outside of our selves, our normal beaten path.

Nature is cyclical.

Our lives are cyclical.

Water collects in a large body, evaporates into the air, condenses into clouds, falls as rain, collects again.

We walk through phases of happiness, contentment; phases of staleness, discontent; phases of struggle, confusion. And we return again and again to happiness.

There are no shortcuts.

We cannot force happiness.

But we humans, we are backwards-gifted with hindsight.

We remember.

All the pain, fear, anger, hurt. But also the happiness, smiles and laughter, peace, joy.

We learn. The imprint of those phases settles like dust into the corners of our memories.

And as we cycle forward into a new phase, the dust is stirred up.

Our inner voice – the hushed voice we often choose to not hear – says, “I have felt this place before.”

I think happiness is a cloud.

It never wears the same shape twice.

It arrives when we are not looking for it, and cannot be found on the days that we search.

But clouds are constant.

I think it is the person whose heart-voice guides them

who sees clouds -

happiness -

truly.

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.

Seth Godin recently posted a blog titled "Check-In, Chicken."  And while I'm not actually part of a small, closely-involved team that would have check-in meetings every morning (or even once a week, although maybe we should consider it), his suggestion is good for even an individual level.  So here goes:

What are you afraid of?
I'm afraid of failure - that everything I've done in my life and in my writing career to date will not be enough for the job I'm doing, and I will disappoint everyone (myself included).  In my mind, I'll run dry of ideas, be unable to contribute any further, and become a leech or burden to the company.  Conversely, I'm afraid that the company will decide I'm no longer providing what they want, to the standard they want, and I'll be let go without explanation.

I know these are unreasonable fears.  Growing up, I received approval based largely on my performance.  I know that I am able to (and most of the time do) outwork my peers, especially in the past decade as "my peers"have become increasingly less reputable.  And I know that I want to learn, I want to improve, I want to be taught and guided.  So I have nothing to fear except fear itself.  (Right? *Worried face)

I'm afraid of success - there are several new relationships (work, social, housing) that have the potential to be long-term - longer term than I've ever experienced.  Talk about new realms of scariness...

According to a New York Times article, 20-somethings these days have at least seven jobs before they turn 30.  I'm happy to only have accounted for half of my job quotient (although I have four more years till 30 arrives).  I personally would like the stability and routine of a long-term job.  I would also like to buy a house - I desperately wish to tear down wallpaper and repaint and buff floors and rebuild stairs without asking permission.  And I would like a stable, fulfilling relationship.  But it would take me pages and pages of writing to record all the even more terrifying things that go along with these desires.

Hi, I'm Jess, and I'm a chicken.

I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.

It occurs to me that this Peter Pan thing has been a recurring theme in my life for at least the last six years. I'm going to essai (French for "test"; first used by Michel de Montaigne to describe his rambling, often circuitous explorations of his thoughts and feelings as he tested out their causation and results).

---

Peter Pan: a boy just before manhood - not so different from a girl just before womanhood, I think. Frightened of growing up, but desperate for it (thus all the dress-up and make-believe). Yet Pan is trapped in childhood - I wonder if he stubbornly flies in the face of everything adult just because he's frustrated by never being able to have it? Peter Pan is often played by slight women, and he does seem rather caught between the male and the female. That's an awkward balance to maintain for a little while, much less be for the rest of your life.

Wendy: a girl who is a woman but still a girl. Wendy sees the practicality and sense that adulthood demands, and she longs for a steadiness, a sense of order (which is why everyone was assigned roles and tasks, bedtimes were established, vitamins were introduced...). But she quickly and willingly loses herself in childish fantasy. She loves Peter's freedom and courage, and she chooses to believe the illusion of him growing up when he assumes the make-believe role of the papa. But for him it is a game, to be discarded when it is tired, while Wendy convinces herself it can exist.

Tinkerbell: a woman who acts like a child, but is deeply and truly a woman. Tink is petulant and spiteful to Wendy - she has been replaced. She has accepted Peter for the child that he is and loves him dearly, and she resents Wendy's intrusion to the core of her being. Yet she willingly sacrifices herself for Wendy in order to fulfill Peter's happiness... I wonder how her size and provisional nature affect the bond between her and Peter? I wonder - if she were full-size, would she have loved Peter as unabashedly? Or would a simple size difference have changed her understanding of the boy?

---

I have called myself Wendy. Realizing that the Boy I loved would never grow up, I went rather sadly back to grown up life and watched his adventures from a distance. He would visit when he remembered me, but the visits grew further and further apart.

I have been called Peter Pan. "An enchanting creature - not quite a woman, still a little girl, and part fairy, I think." Assuming Peter is rather above gender (or why else would they have cast women in his role?), we two are similar: physically, I am slight and boyish; emotionally, I act in turns masculine and feminine; I have a grown-up's intellect but choose to believe the fairy tales I spin for myself (and those of others as well).

And I understand Tinkerbell. She has a heart that is too expansive for her size, and a body that cannot contain the reach of her desire. She is a third wheel, the best friend, the girl he loves but doesn't choose.

"The last thing he ever said to me was,
'Just always be waiting for me,
and then some night you will hear me crowing."

We cry, that we are come to this great stage of fools.

Do you ever think of your life like a movie that's being filmed? And you're the star? I'm convinced we all do, though most of us will deny it vehemently. (Perhaps because in the script, the character description reads, "modest and self-deprecating"?)

I've come to realize that Pandora is the soundtrack to my life. I've created stations that should be renamed after my moods or life scenarios. For instance, the "Pink" station should be renamed "Bitch." "Andrea Bocelli" should be "Romance." "Needtobreathe" is "Main Theme." "ELO" is "Flashback."

I've been thinking a lot about the movie "Stranger than Fiction." I need to rewatch it. The concept of someone's life being moved (or scripted?) by another person (or Person?) is fascinating. And then to see the character become aware of the Author, to witness the struggle between the Author's will and the character's desires...it is The Story, told over and over again in each of our lives.

To be able to step outside myself as "Jess" and see myself as "character" suddenly lends a new perspective to the choices I make and the events that take place in my life. Of course, I question the Author - who doesn't? But what I've come to understand is this: I do not know how this story ends. What I'm being asked to do is simple; I have a choice. Do I attempt to write my own ending based on my blindered view as "character," or do I relinquish control of that which I cannot control anyway and trust the Author to complete my story perfectly? Simple, and still the most difficult choice I will ever make. Yet I'll make it again and again and again.