Our generation did everything in our power to gain control over our circumstances, individual as well as societal. Is this true of every generation? If so, the old have been, are and will always be doomed to fall short. But disappointment, as it turns out, can provide rich ground for surprises.
In this, a moment of reckoning, I am finding layers of trial and error, some thin as egg shell, others weighted with crust, crumbling away. Showing through is the wild spirit I once was, who over the decades had ample time to add on various layers of personas offering protective cover. In the shadows, I figured out who I could be that would cause the least friction with others while allowing maximum room to gestate if not the whole, at least the core of my authentic self.
Now that I am old, the imprudent core is once again bursting through. I am glimpsing what it is to go all in on who I really am, but this time, finding it more durable than I had previously understood. I am not being careful. I am saying words that should have been spoken years ago; creating without concern for “commercial viability”; facing old wounds and harsh realities with courage rather than fear; quitting whatever it is I’ve outgrown. All the while, I’m leaving lots of room for improvisation, proving nothing to nobody. I am, in short, growing not just old—but wild.
In the wilds, there are not only the charred trunks of that which we’re leaving behind, but the surprise of new life. Our young view something of what we attempted over the course of our tenure—perhaps see more than we’d intended–and feel compelled to try something different. To us, their experiments often feel reckless, driven more by instinct than deliberation. We’d prefer for them to be careful, not to injure themselves or others, and to refrain from pecking away at any more of our illusions about ourselves and our legacies than necessary. Soon enough, they will be piling on eggshells of their own, leading us to wonder: Will they do better at mastering both individual and societal circumstances than did we?
There is plenty of room in this for forgiveness and compassion. Yes, it is true that we can’t control the bad things that happen to us and to those for whom we care. But we can’t stop good things from happening, either—often when we least expect it. We do what we can, try our best, rectify the rest and in the wisdom of time, we hope that some greater good will come about from whatever wreckage we have left behind.
Society and its generations move on, sometimes lurching forward, sometimes falling backwards. But invariably, in some dark, quiet corner, under brush, in a cave, nestled in the highest knot of a tree, something wild once again unfurls its wings.
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