A Photo from the Past or a Look into the Future?
I have always been an optimist. This may come as a surprise to some, though I doubt it for most who know me personally. But sometimes optimism ventures into the territory of delusion. As I think about how to wrap up this past week, I keep thinking of the lyrics “You’re having delusions of grandeur” from Wicked.
Most days, “delusions of grandeur” could be a life motto for me. My whole life has been a very fortunate, privileged existence. I never spent time wondering about shelter, food, or my health. I never doubted my own capabilities or the fact that I am loved. That comfort has, in some ways, given me delusions about the world and my role in it.
As I consider what this year has in store for me, my glowing future I can’t quite make out, I’m filled with a simultaneous optimism and dread that freaks me out. Mostly, I have this insane notion that 2024 will be spectacular. I’ve got big decisions to make this year and I feel well-equipped to handle them, even as dread of the unknown inflates within me.
As I think about my future I’m reminded of a metaphor in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. The protagonist talks about each of her life/career options blooming before her like figs. The fruit ripens and falls to the ground before she has the chance to make a choice. 2024 feels like my fig tree.
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. — Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar
But even as I reflect on possible choices and paths, I am forced to confront my own definitions of success and failure. A moment at work made me reconsider my former understanding.
One of my coworkers has extremely high expectations of and unrealistic demands for everyone that works with him. That in itself isn’t the issue. It’s that he doesn’t understand what anyone around him does to make his demands come to fruition. He makes rude comments without understanding the hoops people jump through to meet his expectations. Because of this disconnect there was a failure of communication this week and things fell through the cracks.
To this person, this failure was unacceptable and he took it out on those around him. He was raging at the exact people who were scrambling to fix it.
Luckily, this drama didn’t involve me and no one implicated me in it. So I stepped back and watched the way he treated those who were crushing themselves to fulfill his vision in spite of his behavior.
It struck me then. I realized that whatever my monetary or other traditional measure of success (things that relentlessly fill my head with optimism & anxiety), if I ever treat those around me with such disdain or disrespect, especially while they are working to help me, then I will have failed. Setting that standard of success or failure so deeply within my own control releases some of the giddy and dreadful energy brought on by thinking of the future.
To go back to my story– I’m not saying to never criticize others or have high expectations. I’m saying to stay connected to those around you, to not remain blissfully unaware of the work they do every day. Following my coworker’s lead by checking out from what goes on around me, and being rude on top of that disinterest, would be an utter failure of my own character.
So I chose the word pursuit as my focus for this week. Because in the end I realized that my pursuit of success is meaningless if I can’t acknowledge those around me who help me achieve my goals.
Until next time.
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