When the clock hit midnight last year on New Year’s Eve, I
was surrounded by friends with whom I had spent the previous year creating
films, seeing films, and eating plenty of tacos every Tuesday. It was a
different sort of New Year for me. I remember sitting on my friend’s bench in
his living room (before he got an incredible new couch only a few weeks ago
from when I’m writing this) and thinking to myself that the change from 2015 to
2016 felt less like the fresh start I had always associated with this “made up”
holiday (yes, I know calendars are human constructs, but let us have some fun,
sheesh!) and more like a rest, like sitting on a bench after a walk, recouping before continuing along the same path. It was new to me. I had written and
starred in my first real short film (along with close to 100 other people, of
course), recorded my first full-length electropop record in my bedroom, was in
a romantic relationship where I actually felt loved instead of simply admired,
was living in the same downtown apartment I had moved into the year before with
the same one best friend I had been living with since I graduated college, grew
closer to an ever-growing group of friends, and I felt optimistic in virtually every
aspect of my life. I had it together. The world was mine for the taking as soon
as my short film blew up the festival circuit and I was getting offers to write
blockbuster smashes with million-dollar budgets. (Note: I never actually
thought I would end up writing said movies…but you get what I was feeling,
yeah? Hyperbole, yes? Okay.) And then, I heard something in myself say, “This
year will be about patience. Lean not on your own understanding.” This isn’t
out of the ordinary for me, and I’ve learned to listen to said voice, as it has
never lead me astray, so I knew that I should probably pay attention to this. These words stayed with me, even though I had no idea what they meant at the time.
This past year has been, for all its peaks and valleys, for
all its beginnings and endings, relatively static in some senses, though
hissing and overwhelming in others. The short film screeched to a grinding halt
when we ran out of money to finish it (though it will be finished, I assure
you) and I’m reminded of this fact when the people in my life, though kind and
eagerly interested, ask me, “So hey, when do I get to see Garden Party?” which
is by no means an annoyance, but a reminder that the thing that had governed my
entire life for months was now an afterthought, something for which I had (and still
have) to wait to see completion. It’s out of my hands, really, and no one is
more eager to see a final cut than me (and, you know, everyone else who worked
on it). When my album came out in August of 2015, I was just excited to have
finally written and recorded a full-length pop record, which was a dream of
mine. I had plans to play shows, release hand-made physical copies of it, and make a
music video or two, all in 2016. Well, I didn’t play any shows (though I’m
planning my own mini-tour for Summer 2017), still haven’t released the physical
copies (they are sitting in front of me as I type this, and they are so close
to release I can almost taste it), and did in fact make a music video (yay!)
which turned out wonderfully and is one of my favorite creative accomplishments
of 2016, despite being filmed and edited in one afternoon with a budget of like
five dollars for Post-It notes, which frankly makes it even better in my
opinion. The romantic relationship I mentioned did end, which of course brings
its own set of feelings that could fill another blog post entirely (but won’t
because it’s not exactly something I want to discuss publicly), which is part
of where that whole “lean not on your own understanding” thing came into the
story, both providing solace and sting. I gained another roommate, which spawned
an anxiety I hadn’t felt before (What if he grows to resent me? What if they
decide they want to not live with me? What if I can’t find anywhere to live and
I have to move back in with my mom, fulfilling the stereotype of “millennials can’t
support themselves” because my current job can’t pay me enough to live on my
own even when I work 50 hours a week? …I’m a dramatic fella sometimes), and I’m
happy to say said anxiety dissipated immediately, as the addition of this new
roommate has been nothing but positive, and I can’t believe I was worried for even a
moment (even though human beings are naturally worried about things they have
not yet experienced, but anyway) – this is one of my favorite things about
2016, truly. Speaking of a new roommate, this also brought about a new
apartment! It’s huge, it’s quirky, and it’s my favorite living space I have
ever had in my entire adult life. My bedroom is the stuff of dreams: I have a
writing nook, a television by my bed with a Sega Genesis hooked up, and it is
located in a tucked away room in the apartment so when I want to not be in the
way, I’m not in the way. It’s perfect, but it took patience and leaning not on
my own understanding. Apartment hunting is not fun, but the right place comes
along when one is patient and perseveres (and totally gets lucky), even though
the rent is higher. This year also required patience, and no small amount of
faith, when one of my best friends and I needed to take time apart, to grow
separately before we came back together. Without divulging too much personal
detail (of which there is an abundance), I can say with certainty and relief
that said friend and I are better than we ever have been, and I am utterly
grateful that this friendship could be salvaged and saved. As far as my
personal creative endeavors (of which, I’m learning, there are many – always),
I didn’t complete any feature-length screenplays or novels this year, but I did
write some new poetry for the first time in a long time, and started a
multitude of new scripts, fiction, and other such things. I look forward to
watching these newly planted seeds grow. And lastly, though selfishly I say “most
importantly,” I learned to be patient with myself this year. I am still
learning this, daily and actively. I’ve never been one to allow myself time to
breathe; it’s always been out of desperation that I rest, running full-tilt
until I burn myself out and am forced to recover, only to sprint again the
moment I have a shred of replenished energy. This year taught me, more than any
other year, that tending to one’s weariness, whether from wounds or basic
exhaustion, is vital. I now have a number of ways to rest, to allow myself
solace and solitude from a world that never stops moving, running, buzzing, photographing,
documenting, promoting, liking, favoriting, tweeting, following, screaming, debating, laughing,
singing, joking, searching, and existing at the highest possible volume and
output. Instead of allowing myself to be consumed by this rapid and constant
existence, I’ve learned to focus on one thing and enjoy it, not to gain any
sort of social advancement or knowledge of plot before someone spoils it, not
to be able to discuss it with someone when I next see them, not to prove I’m
the bigger fan, not because someone said “dude, you gotta hear this
record/watch this show/read this book,” but because I want to enjoy it, taste
it, hear it, smell it, see it, soak myself in it, experience it, wholly and
entirely. I have interests again outside the realm of self-promotion that I
feel no desire to share with the social media masses, and they will stay that
way – they will stay my own. I enjoy things and sometimes don’t feel the need
to tweet about them (but it’s okay when I do, and knowing that is important as
well). I’ve learned to be patient with myself, because the only way any of us
can exist is one moment at a time. Moments can be home, so live in them. Yes, I
want to move to a bigger city and take on bigger things, meet more people and
see more places, drink more beer and eat more weird local cuisine – but to wish
for something other than where you are, when you know you can’t or shouldn’t
leave where you are, is only cheapening the life you are living. Find and
create a home within yourself and live in it so every moment can be a home, or
when it’s not a home, it’s an exhilarating journey into the unknown instead of
just another “less-than” experience that you might document later if you can
find the right filter. Find things that make you happy to take slowly and take
them slowly, even if it’s the new Pokémon game or rewatching a favorite
television show or film series you’ve seen countless times already, reading a
book over the course of months instead of a week because every chapter should
be savored, buying an album you haven’t heard and listening to it until you
know it enough to decide if you like it or not (don’t skip a single song), or
tasting every drop of a new beer and leaving the flavor on your tongue, or let every
bite of your favorite ice cream melt in your mouth. Lick the bowl clean. Allow
yourself to breathe, feel yourself grow, grant yourself grace and space to
change, and enjoy the seasons when you don’t grow or change. Enjoy your own
company. Take your time. Patience. Lean not on your own understanding.
Patience.
This past year I’ve been playing a game for the Nintendo 3DS
called The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. It’s a game I grew up playing, and
when they rereleased it for the 3DS, I knew I had to play it again. The basic
premise is: you are Link, the Hero of Time, who has just saved the Kingdom of
Hyrule from destruction, but afterward, your fairy companion departs and you’re
left to wander in search of her. While riding through a forest, you are
attacked by a mischievous creature called Skull Kid, who has two fairies - one black
and one white, wearing a terrifying and powerful mask. Eventually you fall into
a dark pit and wake up in Termina, a land which has three days until the Moon
falls from the sky and destroys everything. You are given the task to awaken
four Guardian Beings, collect many strange masks, and stop Skull Kid before the world ends. You have three
days to do this. Luckily, you have an instrument, The Ocarina of Time, that can
send you back to the first day (though you lose many of your insignificant items) to start
the process again. There are temples to solve in order to summon the
aforementioned Guardians, plenty of lands to explore, and countless people to
meet who have no idea that you are going through the same three days over and
over as you help them with the problems in their daily life. This game requires
patience, planning, and the ability to enjoy the same events many times while
also tweaking habits and patterns to trigger other events.
Even though I could write an essay about this game as an
allegory for dealing with grief and depression, living the same three days over
and over while everyone you meet is unaware, wearing different masks in order
to make it through the day, I’ll save that for another time. The reason I bring
this up (besides looking at my life as if it’s a story…because it is, and I’m a
sucker for metaphor and allegory in reality) is because of something I read
recently on Tumblr that put this year into perspective for me: “Those who wait
upon the Lord will find new strength. – Isiah 40:31” with the caption, “Even in
the fruitless seasons, God is working in you as you wait and depend on Him.
Your roots are growing deeper and your branches stronger in preparation for
fruit in the next season.” This year felt fruitless. I know that sounds blunt,
and after writing this post, I’m realizing it was not without its beauty and
progress, without its fruit, but this year felt like a fruitless season oftentimes, waiting for something
that seems as though it may never come, and being told to continue waiting,
fruitless or otherwise. It was a long year. It was a hard year. It was a good
year.
In Majora’s Mask, it’s only after you collect all of the
masks through completing tasks and quests, conquer each temple to summon each
Guardian, and wait three days until the Moon gets close enough for you to climb
onto it, complete a final set of challenges, and face Skull Kid and his Mask
once and for all that you can break the cycle of the repetitious three days. To
try to climb onto the Moon before you’re ready will only lead to the
destruction of Termina and the death of everyone. It takes patience. It doesn’t
make sense, but you do it anyway. And only when you’ve been patient and worked
hard, and have been patient even more, can your Quest reach its climax and
conclusion, and you can finally greet the Dawn of a Fourth Day, a New Day.
I don’t know what the New Day of January 1, 2017 and the
many days after which will hold. I don’t know if it will bear fruit or uproot
me to be planted in a new field. I don’t know if I’ll see the end of it (though
I hope I do, of course), and I don’t know how I will have changed by the time
of its (yes, we get it, calendars are made up and time keeps going
independently of human constructs – stop ruining fun) conclusion. Perhaps it
will be another year of patience and leaning not on my own understanding.
Perhaps it will be a year of action. Perhaps it will be a year of change.
Perhaps it will be a year of tending to that which is already planted, with a
small harvest or none, and perhaps it will be the best year of my life (until
the next “best year of my life” arrives) with action and change and travel and
experience of which I cannot begin to predict but will burst and overflow with life. Maybe I’ll cut my hair. Maybe I
won’t cut my hair. I don’t know, but not knowing isn’t a problem – lean not on
your own understanding and be patient. Growth will happen where you may not
realize it, and strength and experience will come through seemingly meaningless repetition.
Change may happen over months or in an instant. Time will continue to take its
time, and I plan to live in every single moment I am given.
And now I can finally finish playing Majora’s Mask and
welcome the Dawn of a New Day.
Happy New Year. Here’s to 2017.
lovelovelove,
Adam
