yes -- i know that my goal is to write a blog post for every weekday that i am in LA.
this post was written on tuesday. i just forgot to press the "publish" button last night
in the midst of being distracted by the birth of a new family member! so....
as you all (might) know, i spend a lot of my time thinking about growing up --
my brain has been wired as so since i can remember.
though now a valid reason for why i obsess over this inevitable reality
is because it is in my face every day.
i'm very grateful for the opportunity to grow -- especially
the opportunities in my horizon at present. i refuse to take
a single one for granted if i can help it.
anyway, two weekends ago, my best friend was married.
it was an early wedding, and throughout the morning as
all us girls got ready my friend repeatedly marveled at how natural
everything felt. in fact, one of the first things she said upon arrival to
the wedding venue was along the lines of this feels so natural, this
feels like such a normal day.
i wasn't even the one committing my life to another person or wearing
a white dress, yet i felt sick enough for the both of us.
on the phone yesterday, she and i got to catch up.
one question i was dying to ask her is if marriage actually
makes a relationship feel different.
she told me that marriage does indeed come with a feeling of change.
she told me that it's no longer just a "serious relationship", which is
a term popularly attributed to exclusive relationships and engagements, etc.
she said it's much more than serious because it's forever. she said that
there is a sense of responsibility for another human being that takes form.
that the gravity of the covenant of marriage is undeniably apparent.
i bring my friend up because of how she described her wedding day as being
so utterly normal.
up until two saturdays ago, i had never assumed a wedding day to be normal.
one (hopefully) only gets one wedding day in a lifetime.
it's a very unique day, yet she described it beautifully as normal.
when she made this statement with the utmost certainty, i couldn't help
but stare at her as she put make up on.
i stared for moments at a time at a girl who was no longer a girl, but very much
saying "i do" didn't suddenly throw her the secrets of a successful marriage.
she didn't become a person with the wisdom of someone who's been married for decades,
yet she had grown up. all because of a choice.
especially in those moments leading up to the choice.
the intent behind the pursuit that didn't stop at an altar.
so, once more, i was struck by how she reveled in normality on a day
that i had presumed meant otherwise. though, i couldn't help but
marriage was the very normal next step in her life.
growing up by means of the avenue of marriage was normal.
i remember very vividly being much younger than i am now,
because god knows i am so so very young still.
in that time, i desperately wished to be "grown up."
i assume that the younger version of myself associated
being "grown-up" with independence.
perhaps that was what felt so alluring -- the surface of independence.
the assumption of a picture of independence.
i've recently learned that creativity cannot flourish without boundaries.
i'm currently learning that independence requires its own set of strict boundaries.
independence with complete freedom isn't free because it is susceptible to becoming bound
to chaos and disorganization.
independence with complete freedom at a young age leaves the door wide open for
poor choices, and loneliness, entitlement, and even the threat of stagnancy.
i once assumed that being "grown up" would mean independence with a surplus of
freedoms. i didn't anticipate the change of boundaries.
or the depths of life that stretch on for god knows how long.
i love asking children what they want to be when they grow up.
as a nanny, the answers from the kids i cared for changed over the years
and from child to child.
but no one answer ever failed to be unique or captivating.
in spite of a child's ignorance to what being grown up really is like,
they maintain the ability to state their aspirations with intent.
a child's imagination needs no boundaries because of the wholeness that wires it.
but as one grows, and as the boundaries settle in closer and closer, a decision must be made:
does one disregard all boundaries because, let's face it, impatience and over confidence are very real things? or, does one take the space between and work to harvest something that can eventually grow beyond the immediate boundaries and further out towards others?
i look at the boundaries before me now, and i want to be scared and i want to run away.
the imagination i once had (the one that drove my parents crazy at times) is tainted by unpreventable
realities that come with age.
but it's my "grown-up" choice as to whether or not my intent will remain.
that wild, forgiving, relentless intent that comes from the mouth of child whose dreams know no bounds.
it's my "grown-up" choice to pursue a harvest with intent utilizing the space between. a space
that certainly doesn't have to be forever -- a space where potential is just beyond the immediate barrier.
a barrier that, with time and wisdom and tried and true efforts, will become small beneath my step.
i think that the point will always be intent.
intentionality breeds wholeness when intent is well and good.
intent makes the space beyond the bound normal
because the harvest has been successful, and the time has come to "grow up" some more because outgrowing something naturally is, again, normal.
i think and obsess over the idea of growing up because it scares me every day.
but slowly los angeles is growing into that friend i talked about nearly one month ago.
i still see my bounds clearly, but i don't regard them as limitations.
i simply see them as "not yets".
i see the space between, and even though the surface is clear, i realize that a harvest
is bursting beneath, waiting for age and time to catch up before i can be propelled forward.
i am forever, forever, forever holding on to intent --
like the intent my friend had in the time leading up to her marriage.
the unwavering intent that comes from a pursuit of wholeness, of "growing up."
here's to intent and the doors of decisions it leads to.
and to the harvest -- gratitude for the unseen harvest.