What exactly do we mean when we say "chapters of our lives"? I was told recently that the Spokane "chapter" of my life is now over and it's time to move on to the Arizona "chapter". Eventually, barring the possibility of failure and death, the schooling "chapter" will wrap up as well leading me into what some call the "career chapter".
What does that mean, though? What exactly are they talking about? I find the idea of closing and opening sections of my life as easily as you might close and open sections of a book ignorant at best and insulting if I'm feeling grumpy or hormonal. Rather than stay obediently in strictly defined parameters each supposed bite-sized chunk of life oozes and spits to muddle the previous ones and color the upcoming ones to the point that the whole thing resembles a watercolor illustration left out in the rain than a carefully compartmentalized book with sections.
How, for example, can I be beginning my "Arizona chapter" when I lived here for all of my pre-teen years? How can I hope to open a brand new chapter when every time I pass the exit for Val Vista Drive I see the ugly stucco house with 2 and a half levels where two of my sisters were born and where I use to practice the piano at 5 am on school days? Or an even better question is how do I neatly close the "Washington chapter" when so much of who I am is a direct result of what I learned there and the individuals I met and interacted with and the effect their friendship had on me? How would shutting that section even be helpful when I spend so much time sneaking backwards to re-read my favorite parts of that chapter, to remind myself what I did right and warn myself of the mistakes I made so I don't make them again. Does looking forward mean I need to turn my gaze eternally from the direction I came from? Never before have I felt so much sympathy for Lot's wife and her brackish demise.
I think a better metaphor for my life would be to call each section a movement in a symphony. My life, after all, is composed by the greatest Master there is, even if my ability to play the suggested notes leaves me dreadfully dissonant at times. All the same, I think at least for me the way things actually work is not so much a chapter that closes up nicely to prepare for the next adventure but a confusing but exciting set of melodies and rhythms that pop up again and again in each section of varying length, tempo, and style. Each section builds on the last creating a complicated cohesiveness with indistinct overtones of familiarity and promise for the future. The Spokane movement may have met its double bar line, but the chords and cadences created therein were too beautiful to disappear forever and are sure to be found interwoven in the next melody created for Arizona--one that is already riddled with echos and phrases I remember from my childhood. I am excited to see how the harmonies weave together this time.
