—J .R.R.
Tolkien
This quote sums up quite a bit of what I've learned from my last few years.
Writing since college has been difficult. There are no longer huge self-discoveries happening every other week, no classes expanding my worldview, no professors pushing me to dig deeper into my abilities. In short, it has been quiet. Simple. And for the most part, I have loved it. And felt guilty for loving it. After going through so much for my degree, shouldn't I have some kind of great ambition? My friends are starting their careers, getting married, having children, moving overseas, working toward the dreams we all had of making an impact on the world, making our lives meaningful.
For a long time, I was burdened with the weight of “Find your purpose!" But even four years out of college, I never figured out what God's voice sounds like, never heard my special mission—that thing that would give my life meaning. After waiting so long, I finally stopped listening and have found more peace than I've had in years. I've stopped doubting myself and have let myself want a certain direction in life, a direction that simply makes me happy, without constantly wondering if what I want is bad simply because I want it—my “flesh" wants it. Taking control of where I'm headed has eased a deep anxiety I thought I would always have to live with. Giving up my frantic search for meaning has allowed me to be fulfilled by what I have and where I am, therefore—quite ironically—giving me a sense of meaning.
Now, small things matter most. Shared vegetables from a coworker's garden. Coffee in bed before a long work day. Taking friends to a new favorite restaurant for the first time. Watching hummingbirds from a shaded back porch. Adopting a dog. Writing again.
In my previous relationship, my ex was so set on finding that ultimate existential meaning, he didn't see the hope and contentment (not complacency) offered by small things. He was adamant that happiness and meaning are not the same thing, and that meaning had to come first, then happiness. In the end, it meant that he was never satisfied. Our life left him restless. He wanted to find his individual purpose, and he couldn't do that with me—or possibly anyone else—as a partner. I naively waited for years for his “I" to become “us," but it never did. And so, we lost all that we had built together over three and a half years. Although it's been seven months, I'm still healing in a lot of ways. How exactly does one go about recovering from such a stark rejection?
Starting over has been difficult, but so worthwhile because now I have a clear idea of what and who I want for my future. Searching for meaning shouldn't require rejecting happiness. It is not an either-or choice. I believe now that following what makes you joyful often leads to a fulfilled and meaningful life. The small things lead to the Big Thing.
My Big Thing is finally taking shape. I've read a lot recently—All The Light We Cannot See, The Nightingale, The Count of Monte Cristo, A Man Called Ove, Born to Run, Where the Crawdads Sing, Fahrenheit 451, the first few Harry Potter books. I've learned that I love John Steinbeck's style in The Pearl and Of Mice and Men. I've felt alive and I want more of it. I think I want a master’s degree in library science. Pursuing that degree will provide opportunities to continue experiencing what has given me so much satisfaction.
I definitely want a simple, quiet life. Finding Corey, someone who also wants that, has made me happier than I thought possible. We want a place of our own, one filled with green things and delicious dinners and a table full of friends. Craft beers and ciders during the weekly trivia night at Gusano's. We want enough money to give without worrying, to travel a couple times a year, to try all the international food we can find, and to save for the future. We want to plant blueberry bushes in a yard and gather the fruit five years later. Plenty of time to read and to be outside. A dog, or two, or three. We want to take care of those we love and to live in a way that makes Northwest Arkansas more sustainable, more welcoming to outsiders. To be aware of the wide world and its problems, but to still believe that making small changes matter. Together, all those things are within our grasp.
And it is no bad thing to celebrate that.
