...eclipse when the sun went out and left the art, flourishing in full summer foliage, withered, brittle, false. Also I saw on a winding road in a dust dance the grounds we had made, how they came together, how they ate together, how they met in this room or that. I saw my own indefatigable busyness - how I had rushed from one to the other, fetched and carried, travelled and returned, joined this group and that, here kissed, here withdrawn; always kept hard at it by some extraordinary purpose, with my nose to the ground like a dog on the scent; with an occasional toss of the head, an occasional cry of amazement, despair and then back again with my nose to the scent. What a litter - what a confusion; with here birth, here death; succulence and sweetness; effort and anguish; and myself always running hither and thither. Now it was done with. I had no more appetites to glut; no more strings in me with which to poison people; no more sharp teeth and clutching hands or desire to feel the pear and the grape and the sun beating down from the orchard wall.
'The woods had vanished; the earth was a waste of shadow. No sound broke the silence of the wintry landscape. No cock crowed; no smoke rose; no train moved. A man without a self, I said. A heavy body leaning on a gate. A dead man. With dispassionate despair, with entire disillusionment, I surveyed the dust dance; my life, my friends' lives, and those fabulous presences, men with brooms, women writing, the willow tree by the river - clouds and phantoms made of dust too, of dust that changed, as clouds lose and gain and take gold or red and lose their summits and billow this way and that, mutable, vain. I, carrying a notebook, making phrases, had recorded merely...
I was recently prompted to evaluate my life so far, most specifically my post-high school years - apparently turning 30 does that to people. Many have a fear of that age, I guess it comes from a societal expectation of achievement by then; a stable relationship (if not, marriage), a degree, career prospects - all the stuff that people picture when people say 'he's doing well'. The trajectory of my twenties didn't really follow that of my friends: I dropped out of uni, spent many years working behind bars, moved states a couple of times, spent a year overseas and then returned to study as a 'mature age student', with graduation now a couple of months away.
In many ways it would be easy to lament the choices I made and the way in which I lived, and in some cases I still do - that's part of growing up. But I've been largely comfortable with my age now beginning with a '3'. I had more issues when I turned 25 - I recall sitting on my bed with my hand on my head for half an hour at a time, questioning everything about my existence. Not so this milestone (and I use that word loosely) around. At the time, I didn't really have much of an idea of where I was heading or what I was going to do with my life. A year overseas, more specifically, 7 weeks bumming around Europe, meeting different people and spending 9 hour train rides marveling at the old world with mainly my thoughts as company, fostered a determination, and a resolve, that had been missing for some time. That and a drunken accident of the greatest stupidity (my own). I suppose that's why I'm comfortable with 30, because I know that I'm in a better position to launch into my future than I was 5 years ago.
On the day my twenties ended and my thirties began I wrote and published this on my facebook page,
To my twenties,
Today we go our separate ways. During our time together, you introduced me to new people, to the world and to life. We were subject to experiences full of both wonder and pain, love and heartbreak, fun and misery, excitement and utter boredom. Together we traveled and engaged, took advantage of opportunity, made friendships short-lived and everlasting. Our coexistence will be forever remembered, not only by the various scars you have left on my body, but by memories that span the emotional spectrum. Thank you for everything, without you I wouldn't be here today.
That decade was interesting and a lot of fun. There are some things that I regret and would have liked to have done differently, but they're done now and can't be altered, so I don't linger over them. Is that what people fear about turning 30, being forced into a confrontation with not only their past but their future? Does my current ease only exist because I've already dealt with these issues before? Or does it come from a little line that I periodically repeated to myself during travels and the subsequent years: "Dwell for a moment, learn for a lifetime and get the fuck on with it"?
Who knows, yes and maybe. But at the moment it's peachy and I'm working towards a better life - a position which I am fortunate enough to be in - another reason for my comfort: travel and education exposes one to a world that isn't at all fair. I'm extremely lucky to live where I do - a stable democratic state, where opportunity exists for self-betterment. The fact that I've turned 30, can reasonably expect to live much longer and decide which direction to steer my life is something to be celebrated, not feared, lamented or cried over.
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