Waiting For My Real Life To Begin

Posted: June 18, 2014 in Uncategorized
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Recently, I became aware that Colin Hay (formerly of Men At Work and the Land Down Under), now a resident of Los Angeles, has had a rather prolific solo career and a rather good one at that. The music and accompanying lyrics tend toward the introspective, and speak of a man who has found his place in life and discovered that most elusive of treasures: contentment. While many of his songs strike a chord with me, the one that stands out the most is that for which this post is titled.

Waiting For My Real Life to Begin is about a guy who believes that “Any minute now, my ship is coming in,” who spends his time checking the horizon and waiting for life to come rushing to him which, of course, it never does. There is a second voice to the song, that of the woman who loves him, telling him to “Just be here now, forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin.” She knows what he is too terrified to admit: that he is mired in a swamp of regret, bent and broken by the past, and uncertain of the future.

For most of my adult life I was that guy. I drifted aimlessly, waiting for life to come knocking at my door which, of course, it never did. I bounced from one job to another with no plan, endured a bad marriage and survived a bad divorce, all the while waiting for my ship to come in which, not surprisingly, never happened. Somehow, I managed to grudgingly learn a thing or two along the way and met someone who saw my potential, inspired me to lay claim to my own life, and advised me to forget about the past because, apparently, my own mask was wearing thin.

Which is all so easy to say; so easy, in fact, that it sounds more than a little trite. Those years of drifting were sometimes fun and sometimes terrible, but the thing is, what no one tells you, is that time passes so damn quickly, you really will miss it if you blink. When I was young, older people (friends, co-workers, etc) would tell me things like “Don’t worry, you’ve got all the time in the world,” and “You have so much time to figure it out.” The rub is, however, that these statements are absolutely, positively, completely, horseshit.

Go to sleep one night at the age of eighteen, and wake up to find you’re twenty-seven. Celebrate your thirtieth birthday, and you’re blowing out forty-two candles. That’s how fast is happens, and once those years are gone, they are not coming back. Your friends become parents and then grandparents; people you knew from childhood die of cancer and AIDS and car crashes and some commit suicide because life can be awfully damned hard and not everyone can take the pressures of it and then one day you’re burying a parent and wondering how in the hell everyone got so old, so fast, head spinning in disbelief at the absolute ridiculousness of it, and waking up with stiff knees and a sore back, deciding against going on the fun rides at the county fair, and not understanding the music these kids listen to nowadays, and what the hell is the deal with those sagging pants anyway, and why don’t I have a proper career and when exactly did I become so broken, so defective, so caught completely unaware of this grownup world around me?

That is how quickly it happens. Sitting there, waiting for something to happen, and nothing ever did. Because I didn’t have focus, didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a goal, didn’t have a direction, didn’t have faith in myself, something, anything. Don’t wait for tomorrow, because it comes way too soon. So into this madness comes The One Who Makes It All Make Sense, and it’s as though the light came on for the first time and it’s so beautiful and so brilliant that one can barely stand to look at it, but I look at it, I look at it constantly, and I begin to see, really see, and it’s all so amazing, so wonderful, that I can’t help but be here now, for now and for ever, because this is here and now is when and it all just falls together. Turns out I needed someone to gently point me in the right direction, and she did just that, because sometimes some of us need that simple thing, that push, that nudge, that one little thing that changes everything and makes everything wonderful.

And now, having found the wherewithal to not be broken, to not be defective or inert, I have found my path, my calling, and it finally, I can see a ship on the horizon. My real life has finally begun.

Click on Colin for a nice surprise!

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