A hungry crowd sits in silent anticipation. The speaker poses a question: “How many of you spend too much time worrying about the future?” Instead of hands shooting up like stars, this quieter crowd nods their heads in unison like they are entranced. I step outside of myself, stop and think. Am I too preoccupied with thoughts of the future?
How can one distinguish between healthy planning and wishful thinking? I don’t spend every waking hour of my day thinking about how each of my actions will affect my future, but I do tell myself that consequences and repercussions are a definite reality. I know I don’t study enough and that I probably party too much, and I want to change but I have yet to find an appropriate 12-step program for my issues. How do I know when too much isn’t good enough? How do I know who I want to be or what I should be doing? How do I know anything? Don’t I know anything?
Let me start with what I do know. I know how to make people laugh and I know how to make people cry. I know how to count to 10 and I’ve almost figured out how to fill ice trays properly, but I still don’t know how to change a tire or fall in love, and I’m afraid those two things are going to be more important to me than anything else.
A friend recently told me just what I needed to hear. She explained to me all of the things that I had been thinking and feeling about myself but was too scared to share or even believe, and I cannot help but wonder whether she was right or whether we were both wrong. Why do our futures have to be black or white? I have always been an advocate of doing what you love and nothing less, but a contradiction to my principles occurs here. I am afflicted by being interested in too many things and, at the same time, not liking anything at all. I want a future comprised of a strong relationship with God and happiness, but I know that I cannot live off rainbows and feelings, so where do I go from here?
My grandparents visited me this weekend, and if there has ever been a time in my life when I thought about my own mortality more than this, I am not aware of it. I showed them around Grounds, and we ate on the Corner, but my grandfather was having a difficult time breathing and my grandmother’s knees and memory have been troubled for a while. All of these things in combination with other ailments made mobility a constant concern and topic of discussion. My interaction with them this weekend forced me to think about their old age. I am not ready to accept death for anyone that I love, especially them. I cannot imagine a world in which they don’t exist, and I certainly don’t want to live in one. My grandparents are by far some of the best people I know, and I find it so hard to believe that this time in their life is creeping up so suddenly.
My grandparents’ current situation made me wonder if I’ll ever be comfortable with the finality in the concept of death and if all my worrying is for nothing. If we all die in the end anyway, what is the point of worrying? These experiences and feelings might be both helpful and welcomed when growth and maturation are necessary.
The more I think about my future, the more I realize how much infinite potential it has. My grandparents have given me many things — one of the most basic yet complex is life itself (not directly of course — my mom and dad took part in some capacity), but in addition to this life, they have also provided me with a glimpse of an unavoidable death.
I know I worry too much about what I will do for the rest of my life, but I also take some comfort in the uncertainty. There is something truly remarkable to be said for life — and grandparents.
Ian’s column runs biweekly Thursdays. He can be reached at i.smith@cavalierdaily.com.
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