Here's What I Would Tell "Her"

Greengirl pointed to an interesting piece on National Public Radio...  some young college student asked older readers of her blog to write letters to themselves at the age of 20.  I've been contemplating what I'd say to myself if I were able to write such a letter, and I'm thinking that my advice would likely be pretty blunt, and probably not nearly as inspiring as most of what I was able to find related to this conversation.

That young woman that was me 35 years ago was hell bent on entering into a marriage with a young man who she deemed "safe."  That safety thing was a driving force for her back then, and because she was young and inexperienced and naive, she had no idea what she would have to trade for the illusion of safety.

If I could talk to her, I'd tell her to turn away from the possibility of living life in safety, and stay open to the possibility that life could be rich and full and exciting.  I'd tell her that, whatever she'd been told to the contrary, there is very little in life that isn't about sex and power and being fully present in these bodies we've been given.  I'd tell her not to waste her time with that poor, limited, broken, safe looking boy.  Instead, I'd tell her to pack a (very light) bag and strike out looking for adventure and fulfillment and pure, deep, honest, open, vulnerable connection.  I'd send her heading off in search of the wild-eyed young revolutionary that I didn't find until we were both well past our youth.  I'd tell her to eat great interesting foods; drink something more exciting than strawberry daquiris, fuck a whole lot more, take a chance on those hallucinogenic substances that she so assiduously avoided, dance and party and sing and fight and march and believe that the world could change just because she was willing to work to make that change happen. 

If I could talk to that version of me, I'd tell her to be less afraid.  I'd tell her to dream big dreams, and I'd tell her that it was important to nurture those dreams and give them life. 

I know that, if she had made those kinds of choices, then things would have been different for me.  I know that perhaps that set of choices would have meant I'd not have been "Mom" to the two children I bore -- although I'm betting that the karma we share would have brought us around together somewhere and somehow.  I know I'd have been drawn away from my beloved mountains -- and maybe never been able to find my way back.  I know I'd have learned different lessons, and traveled different paths.  I know there would have been other joys and different sorrows.  I don't know what my life would look like today if she'd been braver and wilder and more free -- but I'd be willing to take the chance that she'd have made an interesting life out of that path, and oh my what a glorious dance that might have been.  Who knows, perhaps somewhere she's walking that path parallel to the one I did choose.  Could we someday connect, cross paths and share notes?  How awesome would that turn out to be?

swan