When Lightning Fails to Strike
Our relationship has been forged by a circumstance relating to her eyesight that requires me to help her out by giving her a ride to take her daughter to school. My friend’s field of vision is narrowing, sort of the reverse of macular degeneration, so her peripheral vision is slowly closing in and will eventually leave her blind. Fortunately, the rate of loss has been slower than initially expected but still leaves her unable to drive.
During these quick jaunts that make my aging car feel useful we manage to have some pretty deep philosophical discussions. She and I are about the same age, are living in similar circumstances, and have many of the same fears and worries.
What we’ve come to discover is that we are both waiting for lightning to strike, for that jolt that lights up our understanding of what we are supposed to do with our lives.
But life doesn’t work that way, does it?
From what I’ve experienced (and often choose to ignore) is that life is a constant flow of tiny sparks rather than grand flashes. In our every action is a barely discernible pinprick that gooses us a little, like sitting down on one of those electrified mats that keep pets off your couch. They’re not strong enough to cause pain, but they are definitely uncomfortable, forcing us to change our position out of avoidance.
Maybe that’s our problem. We’re only uncomfortable enough to seek to make ourselves less uncomfortable. We’re slightly frustrated by our lack of initiative but not outright pissed off. We turn up the car radio louder so we don’t hear that clunking sound in the engine that warns us that our world may soon be screeching to a halt.
But we keep on rolling, ignoring the signs. We rely on what we know about ourselves to keep us going. We are educated, aware, and know what we are capable of. My friend has an MSW degree and once worked with cancer patients, possibly one of the most difficult jobs a social worker can do. She is extremely capable but under-confident, having begun her career when she was too young to be fueled by wisdom. And then her vision began to close in.
When she started a family, her life as a stay-at-home mom accommodated her vision loss. I chose work that is satisfying but leaves me fairly isolated. We have both spent many years away from the outer stimulation that reminds us of where we fit in a world that seems to grow ever larger and more complex. The spark plug wires that used to connect our inspiration to our deeds are corroded and we’ve come to crave the force of lightning because we’ve lost connection to the steady current that used to keep us moving. Everybody else seems to have a newfangled computer-controlled engine now. Heck, my car still has a cassette-tape player.
So maybe ignition of our inspiration is not the problem at all. More likely, we’re afraid that we’ve been sitting in one place to long and don’t believe the fuel in our old tanks is any good or trust that the old car is up for the trip so we don’t dare leave the driveways of our minds lest we break down in the middle of our journey.
The smart thing to do would be to hook up a trickle charger and slowly let our batteries revive, change the oil and put in a new fuel filter, some fresh gas, and trust that the frame of the old car is still sturdy enough to carry us where we need to go. We could try jump-starting the system with huge shocks all we want, but with faulty wiring and sludgy internal combustion, no amount of lightning force can do anything but fry the battery. At our age, we need a gentler approach.
Ironically, maybe it’s the humility of age, wisdom, a little rust, and a narrowing field of vision that are exactly what we need to fix the problem and focus on the rest of the journey.
But a new car couldn’t hurt either….;)