me, living in the moment, by central park
I would like to introduce you to a character in my life. He’s a jerk, really. His name is Anticipation. He has a mustache and wears acid-washed jeans. He has big yellowish eyeglass frames that balance precariously on his nose. I don’t trust him, but I’ve found you can never really trust people with mustaches except for Tom Selleck, which is a rare exception.
At first, he presents himself sometimes as a happy sort. He wears Christmas sweaters and tells you how wonderful everything will be when you make a rum cake and everyone is gathered by the fire telling stories. Sometimes he says your future is bright, that a trip is something to look forward to, that life will work out. But he’s a wee bit too happy about it, and you know deep down he’s lying, creating unrealistic expectations that will leave you feeling nothing but flat and empty. Other times he tells you how terrible things will be. He grabs your throat and tightens it, creating little waves of terror at bad things that may or may not happen at a time that is beyond the now.
I tell Anticipation that I won’t fear what’s coming, that he needs to grow the hell up and stop spreading lies. We have to jump into life without fearing the worst, because even if the worst happens there’s a story to be told, a life to be lived, a change in direction that is oftentimes worthwhile and life-giving. Sure it’s 78 degrees in December. But that’s just fine because you can go on long walks and bicycle around in shorts. Your trip to Yellowstone may be tainted with children complaining about a low iPad battery, but there are also moments that are unexpectedly beautiful where they gasp at the beauty of the earth. Your daughter may vomit on the frocked dress, but it will create a good story when she’s wearing a t-shirt in the family photo shoot.
Another character that always comes behind Anticipation is Follow-up, which is an asinine woman that follows an uncomfortable event, like a family dinner that went poorly or the time you saw the ex-husband’s mistress at a soccer game or the time another mom says something hateful about your kid. All those times you stood blankly while another person told you off, or failed to act when you should have, and you’re left kicking yourself. Right then, Follow-up is there, with her obnoxious nasally voice, cackling about how you got schooled and telling you that you are a fool and should have handled yourself better.
I mean, what the hell does she know? She’s five foot two for crying out loud. You could crush her.
Of course Follow-up always shakes her head like she knows, and has the perfect lines, but has she birthed children or faced death or cooked a perfect meringue? No. Follow-up judges you and points at your heart and tells you how much more clever you could be, but are not. If you had thought quicker, were smarter, or had a larger vocabulary, imagine how much better that situation would have been.
Anticipation and Follow-up are my worst enemies. They are nails on a chalkboard, lego’s that I walk on, a ringing in my ears. And yet I allow them in my life on an almost weekly basis. I’m dreading something, it happens, and I go through the play-by-play afterward of what could or should have been.
You know what, Anticipation & Follow-up? I hate the both of you.
The ironic part is that the actual bad thing is very small. One night out of many. One conversation that goes wrong preceded and followed by many wonderful ones. But these two characters stretch out the bad thing into a very tragic event and it ruins days instead of minutes.
I’m done with the both of them. In fact, they should marry each other, the annoying Anticipation telling Follow-up that the visit with the in-laws will probably not go well, then Follow-up telling Anticipation that if only you would have made roast instead of chicken, or that it was due to the Republicans. Maybe they will fall madly in love and create a black hole and just cancel each other out.
But until they dissolve completely from my life, I’m going to continue to name them, and put a face to them, and tell myself they aren’t real, and if they were real they’re outright obnoxious. God does not desire for us to live in fear. He has freed us from fear so that we can live in peace, not worrying about the future or regretting the past. And yet despite knowing this in my heart, I still allow these things to happen.
Life is fun. It is good. It is hopeful and full of joy. But other times, it’s miserable and muggy and full of mosquitos and hangovers. Don’t let the anticipation of what is to come and the regret that follows ruin the now. Tell Anticipation and Follow-up to go jump into rivers, lakes, ponds, streams. Let them go anywhere but inside your heart, where they do not belong.
Life is the part in the middle that happens between the anticipation and follow-up. Stretch that part out and make it last, the actual living and not the thinking and regretting.
After all, this is where the good stories reside.
