EARTHLY REINCARNATION

They (yes, the infamous “they”) say that every seven years all the cells in our bodies are replaced. In other words, every seven years we get a new body. Think about that. Every organ, every muscle, our lungs, our heart, our brain – everything is constantly turning over. What appears to be permanent (at least after the age of 15 or so) is actually ever changing. Of course, the cells have “memory”, so if you had a lazy eye seven years ago, it’s a good bet that you’ll still have a lazy eye. Hey, I’m just the messenger.

But this idea intrigues me. I mean, it’s kind of like we are reincarnated within the parameters of our life here on earth.

I look at pictures of myself at various ages, and I do see many different people. The little girl of three or four who wanted to be a movie star may have contained the seeds of the grown woman, but she is an entirely different entity from the young actress of sixteen, the songwriter of twenty-four, the family counselor of thirty-five, the middle-aged woman in her forties and fifties – still trying to decide what she wants to be when she grows up.

I do envy people who make a decision about their lives at a tender age and are able to follow through. There is constancy to their lives. Each decision builds on the previous ones in a neat, orderly fashion. My younger sister was that way. From the time she was about thirteen, she knew she wanted to be a physical therapist. She had a calling, a passion, to help people who were injured and disabled. Every career decision she has made since then has been the next logical step in that progression. Today she has a thriving private practice as a physical therapist, as well as a co-existing career as a yoga practitioner and instructor. Each track of her career feeds the other. Her life has a steady – if fast-paced – rhythm.

My older sister knew from the time she was a very small child that music was her calling. She was a child prodigy before she had any earthly idea what that meant. She studied theory and composition in college. It seems she was jet-propelled into a life of music and has steadfastly refused to even entertain the notion of any other type of career, even when the going was very rough. She is now an established composer and songwriter with legions of admirers, especially within her industry. She has worked exceedingly hard and, as mother says, when you combine hard work with a God-given talent, you have a winning combination.

Then there’s me. The middle child. I admired both of my sisters so much, that I think I tried to emulate them at different stages of my life.

I so wanted to be a musical “phenom” like my older sister that I followed in her footsteps, studying piano and voice. When it dawned on me that I didn’t quite have her abilities, I took a side step into theater. I loved theater, but was not psychologically suited to the life of an actor. So in college I majored in French. No rhyme or reason there, except that I wanted to be like Audrey Hepburn in Charade – an interpreter at the U.N. Yeah, right. If only I had been a native speaker of about five languages, I might have had a shot.

There was a protracted venture into songwriting (age 20 to 32) which was interrupted by a career as a family therapist (age 32 to 40) – the part where I tried to be more like my younger sister – followed by a deeper exploration of songwriting (age 40 to present). But now I also consider myself a writer of prose. Sprinkled in with all of these careers have been many jobs that have sustained me financially while I explored my more far-flung aspirations. I was a legal secretary for about twelve years. That one job carried me through a divorce, two years of graduate school and internship, my entire career as a licensed therapist, the beginning of my current (happy) marriage, and several years of helping Art to establish a small business.

So anyway. My point is this: You may think that things are the way they are. You may think that you are stuck with whatever choices you’ve made, or whatever choices have been made for you. You may think you are too old to learn new tricks. You may think that the “die is cast”. It is not. Remember: Every seven years you are an entirely different person. Be like Madonna, if you want. Go ahead and reinvent yourself.

They say there are only two certainties in life, death and taxes. But there is one more certainty in life: Change. And remember that Change is the essence of Hope.

© 2004, Robin Munson

LIVING IN THE LIGHT

Last night we had dinner with some friends. Although we would like to see them more often, the opportunity is rare, so the four of us usually wind up talking for several hours while our wait-person twiddles her thumbs and wonders whatever we could be talking about.

Oh – Not much. We just solve the world’s problems, that’s all. We talk about politics and religion (the two big no-nos). We talk about life in America versus life in other parts of the world. (These friends are big travelers and have lived for extended periods of time in Europe and Asia). We talk about the creative life – (both of them are very gifted). We talk about family. In other words, we cover all the bases.

Last night we got to talking about movies. It was one of those situations where they would say, “And have you seen. . .?” And we would say, “No, but have you seen. . .?”. Finally I had to take out a pen and scribble down some titles on a napkin so I wouldn’t forget. (My mind is rather porous these days). While we were talking about movies, I realized that my taste in movies has changed quite a bit.

Back when I was in college, my favorite films were the ones by Ingmar Bergman. Of course, I had no money so I had to watch scratchy, blotchy copies on home movie screens set up in the basement of the dorm. You may have seen some of them, “Wild Strawberries”, “The Seventh Seal” – there were many, whose titles I no longer can remember. What I can remember is the darkness of the films. Looking back, they remind me of what Garrison Keillor refers to as the “Dark Lutherans”. There was a starkness to these films, a bleakness that always left me in an altered state. The one that stays with me the most is “The Seventh Seal” which was a movie about the black plague: A knight plays chess with Death in a futile attempt to save his life from the epidemic. It ends with a very famous image of Death leading the knight and his family into the sunset. It was eerie, beautiful, and depressing. Dark, dark, dark.

So anyway. Last night this friend and I were talking about movies, and we both agreed that nowadays we would rather watch films that enlighten and lighten – films that focus on the happier side of life. I think this is because after you’ve been on this planet for a while, you realize that you don’t have to seek out the dark side. It will find you. There is plenty of stuff out there to be sad about – all you have to do is turn on your TV, glance at the headlines, tune in to NPR on your way to work in the morning, or just overhear a conversation while waiting in line at the bank. In other words, you can’t avoid it. If I had never read a newspaper in the past two years I would still know the names of Scott Peterson and Lacy Peterson. I would still know why I know those names. And even if I put cotton in my ears, I would have to walk around with those images tattooed to my brain.

My friend is worried that by not exposing herself (deliberately) to the more weighty issues she will be “burying her head in the sand”. Well, to that I answer this. And suppose you did not bury your head in the sand. What, among the smorgasbord of catastrophes, could you personally change? The answer, it turns out, (and you have to have lived a few years to know this, too) is: precious little.

My wise therapist once reminded me that I should save my energy for something more constructive than wringing my hands over the political direction of the country. As he pointed out, “You have one tiny little vote.” And so it is with so many things. When you are confronted with something that upsets you, ask yourself if there is anything you can do to change it. If the answer is “No”, move on. If the answer is “a little”, go ahead and do it.

If the answer is, “A lot!” – Then by all means, go for it. But realize that you’re in for quite a battle and will probably deserve sainthood when it’s all said and done.

Meanwhile. Seen any “feel-good” movies lately? I highly recommend “Second Hand Lions”.

© 2004 Robin Munson