No, Thank You

For all sad words of tongue and pen,

The saddest are these, ‘It might have been’.

— John Greenleaf Whittier

Regret is a sad thing. It would be nice to be able to share the urgency of life with our children, but they rarely will listen. So, for many years, we waste our lives on the expected, we desire the marketed, and we deny our own voices for fear of appearing eccentric and somewhat out of touch. But the begging question is, out of touch with who? Why do we feel that our own voice will lead us astray? Is it not this voice who knows us best?

In my own life, I paid attention to my voice, but it was complicated. In relationships, someone usually has to give. Often in the giving, we betray our voices. In some way, we must honor the voices and live in harmony simultaneously. I often wonder how my life would have turned out if I had stayed true to myself, and yet still cultivated loving relationships, or is this possible?

If I could retrace my steps, these would be the most important things I would change. I would live the landscape that lures me. I would honor my gifts. I would use my voice for all that I love. I would walk away from toxic, dark, and energy draining people much sooner. I would make sure that every moment mattered, and that the people in my energy field understood me and loved me for who I am, not as a script to be rewritten.

I think landscape is crucial to happiness. We often feel forced to live in cities or rural landscapes that are a mix match for our psyche. We think obedience is necessary, so we go through life wearing the wrong dress and scarf. I am lured by space. I like limitless views from my windows. Cookie cutter neighborhoods or high-rise apartments literally close me down. I suffocate. I knew this as a child after spending long days at the barn, gazing over the green of endless pasture. Once married, I had to tuck all of that away. My landscape was unreasonable in the real world, or so I was told. I was lucky enough to live on a barrier island for two years. Surrounded by marsh and sea, the space, the endless views were almost cathartic to my empty soul. Standing in the darkness of my kitchen one night, I gazed out the window. I looked at the immense openness of the marsh, and off in the darkness, I saw the twinkling lights of Edisto Island. I was immersed in peace. It was like a drug, a calm, something I should desire every day, and find and treasure its worthiness in my life. In a world of chaos, we should never deny our own measure of peace. It is unique, and yet universal. Live where your soul feels at home.

Throughout my life, voices have always battered me with their good meaning, bad advice. It was their way of pegging my life where they wanted me. In no way was there any reference to their reasoning. I often wondered why miserable people enjoy putting people into boxes that had already rendered themselves morose. I am a creative, I like words, and dreams, and being stuck in my silence of ideas and thoughts. I truly cannot operate in cubicles or timeframes. I work on my brain clock of impulse and messaging. The desire to put on paper my visions, my feelings, the stories I tell. I finally gave my soul credence to do my work, however misunderstood by the righteous.

I was raised in the South, where the proverbial language was Yes, ma’am, and No, sir. No, thank you always sounded harsh in a polite society of expected norms. To venture away from prim and proper, was almost a tangling of wires in a hierarchy of have and have nots, and graciousness before gratitude of self in the constructed maze of to do. My mother, a woman born way before her time, urged me to put Thank you and No, thank you on even ground. It was a power, a choice of offerings. If I could go back, I would have said No, thank you more often. To the invitations I should have declined, to the people who had no vibe, to the energy that suffocated my soul, and to the normalization of who I must become, I would say No, thank you. I would disregard the advice, the passive aggressive remarks, the things I must do, and the faces of disbelief, I would walk away to the rhythm of my steps against the solemn beat of monotone. Life is too short to be only gracious, and ignore self in that regard. I now see those people I should have disengaged, as rude and insincere pundits of fake news in a world where truth should reign supreme. There is no truth more imperative than the one you own.

I now live in urgency. I want to do all that is me, totally unabridged. Life ticks away. We waste time, we take it all for granted, we assume we have time for a self arrival, but the arrival happens in moments and days. It all accumulates in years, until the avalanche of someone you don’t recognize stares back at you in the mirror. You take a second look, and you are overwhelmed with sadness. The what ifs, the might have beens…the moment you look at the date, and begin the race for your life. It feels so different. It is no longer work, it is life…the essence of your existence. The longer it takes to hit, the more tragic the epiphany. My advice, my unrequested intrusion into your disorganized, yet heavily planned life…become your best self now, today, this very minute. Let No, thank you become your most favorite, most polite response. In its bravery and uncertainty, your power will grow, and your life, this one and only life…richly textured and immensely deep, will be uniquely your own. One day as you look back, you will murmur to yourself…Thank you.

Life’s tragedy is that we get old too soon and wise too late. — Benjamin Franklin