The naivety of youth is inevitably shattered by disillusionment. A painful shattering, too, because how we saw the world was very much a part of ourselves, and to lose that – to lose the safe harbor where everything seems promising and bright – is a kind of death. The world is not a forgiving place, and life is filled with enemies, both within and without.
Yet that shattering is necessary. Like growth pains. It’s not something to be afraid of, because it is inevitable and simply part of living long enough to drink from the chalice of life, the sweet and bitter alike. It does not mean becoming nihilistic. It means living on, perhaps a little sadder, perhaps a little colder, but also with eyes a little more open than before.
In short, for one part of you to grow, another part must die.
Life is many births – ideas, dreams, hopes, loves, responsibilities, and relationships.
Life is many deaths – dreams falling apart, hopes shattering, hearts broken, duties shirked, loved ones lost.
It starts from the day we are born and will not end until the day we die. But just as things are lost, so can they be remade, renewed, even rebirthed. Dreams can kindle anew. New paths can open. New people come into our lives as surely as others leave. Broken bones mend and become stronger for it. Callouses of the mind and the heart can bring forth a grit that enables new journeys towards meaning.
Life was never meant to be easy, comfortable, or fair.
Life is the ultimate epitome of hardship, discomfort, and brutal unfairness.
In that harshness rests a choice: what you do about it.
It may seem like loads of other people are getting a better deal than you are. And certainly they are, in some ways. Someone will always be richer, more successful, healthier, younger, and outmatch you in whatever metric you choose. Someone will always be lording their success over others, driving their sports car as loudly and obnoxiously as they can, and treating others like shit. But they don’t escape the hardship either, they just have more money to throw at their problems – and in the end, life has a way of bringing everyone to their knees. Death has no favorites.
It’s easy to despair. Yet there is still meaning. There is purpose. There is light despite the darkness. Viktor Frankl found that despite his suffering in the Nazi concentration camps and the loss of most everyone he loved. Countless others, stories untold, have found meaning in the worst times of their lives. You can as well. It is part of your heritage as a human being to transmute pain and suffering into the rich soil of newness of life. It is your heritage to live with courage.
I write this merely for myself, as a reminder while I deal with a shattering. Reality is like the upper atmosphere at times, superseding everything else and with air so thin it is hard to breathe. Yet the view is like no other, for endless miles, and unlike the pretty forests of naïve youth that only let you see a curated view no farther than a few trees over, reality brings with it a view where lies cannot hide and truth cannot help but shine. Eventually, you learn to breathe again.
It is wonderous.
It is painful.
It is thrilling.
It is lonely.
But it is life, and it has to be worth living.
The sun rises every day, even if it is behind a cloud.